


Intertwined Fates

by midofthenight



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst, BG3, Baldur's Gate 3 Spoilers, Canon Divergence, Canon Related, Canon Universe, Cute, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Original Character(s), POV Third Person, Warlocks, Wizards, baldur's gate 3 - Freeform, i never know what to tag whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:13:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28022967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midofthenight/pseuds/midofthenight
Summary: Ingrid and Mintly figure out themselves, their place in the world, and each other's lives, as they and the other survivors of the Nautiloid crash embark on a quest to remove the tadpoles implanted into their brains.(note: the events in the game occur in this fic, but they are out of order/tweaked slightly. some outcomes are the same, but some were also changed to fit the direction and progress of the story. i hope you enjoy!)
Relationships: Abdirak/Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Gale (Baldur's Gate)/Original Character(s), Gale (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 10
Collections: The Misadventures of the Magic Menagerie





	1. In Search of Knowledge

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaborative story with the amazing Illubuu!
> 
> I hope you enjoy the shenanigans our OC's, Ingrid and Mintly, get themselves into!
> 
> (I will be putting notes in on the chapters that Illubuu writes!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 01/16/2021 Update: this works has been updated slightly to fit the chapters. Some wording has been changed and/or removed. I hope you enjoy!

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Yes, Astarion, I do.” Mintly scratched at her forehead, a spot just below her horns.

Ingrid chuckled. She wouldn’t say anything, but she knew Mintly was lying. She had no idea where they were. The last turn that they had made was entirely a guess and she’d committed to it. But it wasn’t as if Ingrid knew where they were anymore than Mintly did.

“We should have had Lae’Zel on this mission,” Astarion audibly grumbled from behind. “Instead of leaving her behind to watch camp.”

“I don’t think I would have been able to handle the attitudes of both you  _ and  _ Lae’Zel at the same time,” Ingrid remarked. “You’re enough a handful to deal with on your own.” 

Ingrid could feel the piercing glare from Astarion on the back of her head, and she was not going to give him the satisfaction of reacting to it. It was a wonder how he had stayed with the group as long as he had. With as often as he complained, Ingrid would have thought he would have left ages ago - it wasn’t as if the group had been together long.

The ship that they once were held captive on had crashed into the ground only a few weeks prior. Since finding one another, they had teamed up on a personal mission to remove the mindflayer tadpoles that were implanted into their heads. That being said, it wasn’t as if they weren’t constantly butting heads and clashing on  _ how _ exactly they would go about their mission. In fact, if Ingrid had to make a guess, she’d say they argued more than they agreed. 

For a while the party walked in silence, listening to the wildlife around them, broken only by the occasional jokes between Mintly and Ingrid. 

“You’re being awfully quiet back there, Gale,” Ingrid said after a while, slowing down to match the pace of the wizard. “Are you lost in thought thinking about yourself again?” 

A chuckle escaped from Gale’s mouth as he turned his attention to Ingrid. “Am I really that easy to figure out?” He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. Ingrid noticed that this was something that he did when he was either nervous or embarrassed, though it was hard to tell which was which. His smile and eyes were warm and welcoming, betraying nothing, but Ingrid couldn’t help a feeling of... uncertainty around him. 

“You’re almost like an open book,” Ingrid teased, nudging him in the side, “but instead of us having read you, you decide to tell us all on your own.” 

“What can I say, I love telling stories!”

“Yes, and you also love yourself.”

“Oof, ouch,” Gale laughed, holding his hands over his heart.

The two fell into step with one another as they made their way up the winding path. Their conversations meandered all over the place, from personal anecdotes, to Gale’s theorizations of the origins of spells, to whether or not spells were changing every generation, to Ingrid’s in-depth knowledge of the origins of various combat arts she was proficient in, to how to make said weapons. 

Ingrid was deep in discussion about the process for forging her two daggers when she noticed that the surrounding area was actually becoming more familiar. 

Mintly’s wrong turn ended up being the right one and the path before them opened up. The faint noise of the tiefling camp became louder. The path they were on had become much steeper and the cliffs around them started showing signs of the battle from their original visit to the Grove.

“It seems as though we are getting close,” Mintly called from the front. “I hope Wyll has some form of food waiting for us.” 

“Oh thank the heavens,” Astarion responded. “I was  _ so  _ close to telling these two to get a fucking room.” He picked up his pace and walked between Gale and Ingrid, who were walking much more closer together than they had been initially, to catch up to Mintly. “If I have to hear about another dagger I am going to take one of Ingrid’s and shove it into my eye.”

Embarrassed, Ingrid quietly began to pack her daggers away into their sleeves. Gale placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t mind him, Ingrid. He’s all bark, no bite.”

She smiled softly at him. “Thanks. It’s just so weird to have someone so angry right from the beginning. He tackled Mintly to the ground and tried to  _ stab  _ her before we’d spoken four words to each other!” 

“I know. Mintly had told me one day on our way to the Goblin Camp. Some people are just like that. He’s most likely afraid, if a bit volatile, but I’m sure he’ll relax…. Maybe. I’m not a psychic.”

Ingrid kicked a small rock out of the way with her boot.“I hope you’re right.”

“You know, me. I always am right.” Gale winked. “However, he has no room to talk about being ‘cozy’. I’m noticing a bit of a...quarrel.” He gestured in front of him. 

Following his gaze, Ingrid noticed Astarion had caught up to Mintly in the front. Mintly, noticing her new walking partner, looked over and gave him  _ the look _ . Astarions flew up as if he were being accused of a crime, and Ingrid was able to read the word  _ ‘what’  _ come from his mouth. 

“Oh no,” Ingrid lowered her voice, pulling Gale down to her level. 

“What?”

“She gave him that look,” she pointed to Mintly. She could still see the annoyed look on her face as Astarion desperately tried to dig himself out of the hole he got himself into. 

“It’s like she’s the Astarion whisperer or something,” Gale commented. 

“That, or the fact that she doesn’t take any bullshit from him.” 

The two broke into a raucous laughter. The only one who actually even bothered to try and wrangle Astarion was Mintly. And Ingrid had to admit, she enjoyed the sight of the over-opinionated rouge being scolded like a child. 

“I’m glad we’re so amusing for you two,” Astarion called back behind him. 

Ingrid and Gale hadn’t realized that their laughter had gotten louder to the point where Mintly and Astarion could hear. 

“Oh no, it’s just you Astarion,” Gale responded with a wave. “Mintly is a fantastic wrangler for an ornery child like yourself.”

Astarion had stopped in his place and was getting ready to march up to Gale when Mintly grabbed his arm and turned him around to continue dragging him up the path. 

“Astarion just fucking stop,” she began, even more visibly annoyed than before. “You’re acting like a brat. You can pout when we get back to camp.”

At this point there was no way that Ingrid was able to hold back the laughter she had suppressed. She doubled over, laughing at Astarion’s tantrum being quashed. Gale joined in, both giggling like a gaggle of children as Mintly and Astarion disappeared into camp.

It had been some time before the two were able to catch their breath. Ingrid and Gale’s faces were flushed with color, tears running down their cheeks.

“Oh my goodness,” Ingrid gasped, breathing in deeply to catch her breath. “I really needed that laugh.” She dried the remaining tears from her face.

“I’ll be honest, I’m afraid he might kill me in my sleep tonight,” Gale chuckled, wiping his own tears of laughter away. “Though I think Mintly would kill him first.”

“Gods, I have no desire to hear his whining back at camp,” Ingrid replied. 

Gale looked up at the sun shining overhead. “I don’t see why we have to just yet. It seems about early afternoon, so why don’t we spend a while in the Druid Grove? I heard they have an expansive library regarding nature and the creatures of this lang. Maybe something will help us on our journey?”

“I think that sounds like a great idea,” Ingrid smiled at Gale. “I also need to make a map of the land, too.”

“So… we really didn’t know where we were heading, did we?”

“Nope, but I am going to solve that problem now. I don’t know how Lae’Zel or Shadowheart would react to hearing that we just wing it every time we go on our little quests. So, this is going to be our little secret, okay?” Ingrid winked at the wizard and began to climb up the hill to the campsite where the rest of the group was at. 

Gale chuckled to himself and shook his head. “She’ll be the death of me.” He absently placed a hand over his chest for a moment, silently lost in thought, before taking off to catch up to Ingrid who was waiting for him near the middle of the hill. 

* * *

The Druid Grove was alive and bustling with people. Some were praying in the center of the village, while others wandered around the shops that dotted the camp. On their way to the library, Ingrid quickly stopped at one of the shops to purchase a large piece of parchment paper and ink to draw her map. 

The library itself was located inside the Emerald Grove, a place hidden in the hills behind a passageway protected by Druidic runes. Most outsiders, especially non-druids, were forbidden from entering the area, but after it had been realized that Ingrid had been one of those who’d saved the Druid leader Halsin, she was warmly welcomed as one of their own.

They approached the door cautiously - this trip to the library would be the first attempt at going into the Emerald Grove. The thought that Halsin was lying about them being able to walk into the library was hovering in the back of Ingrid’s mind. 

As if sensing the hesitation from Ingrid, Gale stepped forth to the dimly glowing door and placed his hand on it. The runes on the large stone began to glow brighter and the earth around it began to rumble. Both Gale and Ingrid took a cautious step back. Yet, instead of crumbling down as the two were expecting, the rock began to shift to the right on magical, unseen hinges and created an opening for them to walk through.

“See,” Gale said, beaming at Ingrid. “Nothing to worry about. Now, let’s get inside! I can hardly wait!” 

The inside of the Emerald Grove was lit by a combination of the sun, peeking through cracks in the rocks overhead, and various glowing rocks. Moss-covered stone acted as cushioned seating while slabs of marble and granite proved to the tables. Vines weaved across the wall and around the surrounding pillars of rock. Directly underneath the sunspot was a larger table surrounded by multiple stone seats -- Halsin’s desk, Ingrid assumed. That was where he and the rest of his council likely met to discuss problems or issues within the community. 

The hallway to the library was directly across from the entrance. It was dimly lit and longer than Ingrid had expected. Though she was able to see clearly due to her night vision as a drow, Gale struggled. Ingrid had forgotten that humans could see almost nothing in the dark, so until they reached the library, Ingrid acted as the guide, calling out rocks and other items on the ground. Gale was nearly attached to her side.

Upon entering the library proper, they were met with a massive stone pillar of a wolf. Blue-glowing markings adorned its face and body. While the library itself was not grand in size, each cardinal direction from the wolf had a pocket of three large bookcases packed with books of all shapes and sizes. One large desk sat near the opening of the library, surrounded by endless burning candles with the stone bench seated in front. 

Ingrid made her way to the table, placing her bag on the ground between her feet, and set up her paper and ink. Gale had already made his way into the closest shelf of books, bee-lining as soon as he was able to see enough to move confidently. 

As she was finishing up her set up, Ingrid noticed a movement from in front of her. She looked up to see Gale holding a carefully wrapped bundle of parchment with a proud grin on his face. She took the parchment from his hand and carefully unravelled it and opened it up to reveal a well-detailed map of most of the area. 

“Figured you’d want a head start,” Gale said, grabbing the book that was tucked beneath his arm. 

“What a  _ gentleman _ ,” Ingrid responded, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. She began to place the map on the open space on the table so that she could begin a rough sketch of her own map, careful as to not tear the already fragile document.

“I am going to pretend that you were being genuine and say: ‘You’re Welcome’,” Gale said, bowing dramatically. 

Ingrid covered her mouth to prevent herself from laughing. She needed to focus and copy her map quickly before everyone departed for another quest. Shaking her head, Ingrid turned her attention back to her map. She could see Gale walking back into the books, still laughing at himself. 

Gale did not make it far before he turned around again and called out to Ingrid. “The organizational system in this place is a mess. Actually, no. There isn’t a system here. It seems to be a free-for-all.”

Ingrid waved him off, smiling. “Don’t worry, Gale. You’ll be the first one I call for if I need any help.” 

Gale returned her smile and quickly turned around, making his way back into the sea of books.

As Ingrid worked, Gale would come by every so often to show her a unique book that he had found on the shelves and talked about their importance in the vast world of magic and theorized their usefulness in the far future. They ranged from the origins of the Druidian language, to folk stories, to journals of former leaders and councilmen. 

“There are also many non-Drueidic books throughout the library,” Gale said at one point. “I assume that they were given as gifts.” Gale had managed to find two books that were “limited edition”, as he’d put it, and quickly began to jot down in his notebook a brief synopsis of its contents. 

For a while the library was almost quiet, the only sounds benign the scratching of Ingrid’s quill on the parchment paper and the thud of Gale’s boots echoing off the stone floor. Occasionally voices could be heard from the main area of the Emerald Grove, but they were unintelligible and did not seem to be moving in their direction. 

Ingrid had just set her quill down next to her finished map when she heard the thuds of Gale’s boots quickly coming up behind her. 

Gale was running up towards her from the far end of the library. “Ingrid! Ingrid! You’ll never believe that I just found,” he said breathlessly. While he was bent over to catch his breath, Ingrid noticed a somewhat small, faded book in his hand. It looked almost familiar. After a minute Gale caught his breath and revealed the cover to her. “This is a book I have not seen since I was a young boy and barely walking.”  _ ‘Turtle Games’ _ was barely legible on the cover.

Upon realizing what this book was, Ingrid snatched it out of Gale’s hands. “Oh my! It’s been some time since I’ve read this, too! Merchants from up here use to bring goodies like these down to us in the Underdark and I was lucky enough to get my hands on one when I was younger.” Ingrid carefully moved her still-drying map out of the way and placed the book on the table, gesturing to Gale to join her. 

Adjusting himself onto the hard bench, Gale took a seat next to the drow. “You haven’t talked much about life in the Underdark, Ingrid.” 

Ingrid’s smile dropped at the mention of her former home. She debated whether or not to delve into her life in the dangerous world below their feet. 

“It isn’t the most welcoming place for overworld-beings,” Ingrid began, opening the book to the first page -- a picture of a small turtle surrounded by various marine animals. “Another day we’ll discuss the lives of those in the Underdark, but for now let us amuse ourselves with the book we both adored in our childhood.” 

Gale didn’t press any further. “My mother’s favorite creature in the book was this one,” he pointed to the small red frog. “For how bright and vibrant his body was, he is the most meek and quiet one.”

“And the one that seems to get everyone in trouble.” 

“Now, that sounds eerily similar to someone I know.” Gale rested his cheek in his palm, looking over at Ingrid. 

Ingrid’s mouth was agape at his response. “ _ Listen _ . It was  _ one _ time!”

“You dragged Mintly and Astarion into a harpy ambush and nearly got yourselves killed!”

“We were saving a child!”

“A child saving a child.”

She poked her index finger into Gale’s chest, still in shock. “Take that back! I am not a child. I’m technically one of the oldest.”

Laughing at Ingrid’s outburst, Gale gently grabbed the hand that was still poking a finger into his chest and carefully placing it on the table. He stared at her, silent for a moment.

Ingrid squirmed under his gaze, feeling the warmth of his palm spread up her arm.

“We should get going. I believe the ink has dried,” Gale said finally, giving Ingrid’s hand a light squeeze before letting go. 

Ingrid felt a soft smile creep over her lips. She nodded in agreement.

Gale stood and was getting ready to take the book and place it back on the shelf when Ingrid placed her hand on the cover, holding it down on the table. “Wait… I don’t think the druids would notice  _ one _ book missing.”

Gale raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Are you really advocating for  _ stealing _ , Ingrid?”

Sliding the book out from under his hands, Ingrid placed the book into her bag and covered it with the map she created. “We’ll bring it back...one day….maybe.” She shrugged. 

“If you insist,” Gale gestured towards the darkened tunnel towards the entrance of the Grove. “But I am telling everyone that their innocent little Griddy is a thief.” 

“Please do. Maybe Astarion will actually like me.” She laughed. 

Taking the lead again, the two began their return to their camp. The glow of the stones began to fade into the darkness of the tunnel. Ingrid still called out the rocks in the way and Gale stayed close by. This time, however, their fingers were slightly intertwined. 

* * *

It was dark by the time the two made their way to the entrance of their camp. While they were still almost 40 meters away, Ingrid could see the glow of the fire and some of the group huddled around it. It was still too dark for human eyes to see clearly, so Ingrid was still in the lead. 

“Ah, home sweet home,” Gale said. He turned to face ingrid. “This is where I must leave you. I want to read my notes on those two books I found. Keep that children’s book close by you, I don’t want that getting ruined.”

Ingrid patted her bag in response. The book was not going anywhere. 

With a nod Gale turned to face a somewhat worn path that led to the beach. The rock in his hand beginning to glow a bright light. 

Ingrid blinked.

He had casted light.

He had known how to use light the  _ entire _ time. 


	2. Two Daggers and A Sausage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by Illubuu! This is Mintly's point of view during the day :)

“You can let go now.”

Mintly scoffed, dropping her grip on Astarion’s arm, continuing to move up the hill into the makeshift settlement in the grove. She gave one of the small Tiefling children a small smile - she still had yet to get used to seeing so many of her kind around. “Are you ready to act like an adult?”

“I don’t appreciate the patronizating.”

“I don’t appreciate the attitude.” Mintly turned. Astarion’s face was drawn into a pinch, his brows knitted and his eyes narrowed. “You can take it up with Gale later. We’ve got things to do.”

Astarion scoffed, his teeth flashing in the sunlight. “And if those things we’ve got to do include my taking it up with Gale?”

“Then we put it at the bottom of the list,” Mintly replied. She looked over her shoulder at the lower end of the settlement, watching people mill about until her gaze fell on the blacksmith. She turned back to Astarion, seeing behind him that Ingrid and Gale had already gone down to the druid circle. “First, we should get ourselves some finer weapons.”

“Are our current ones so dismal that we need spend money on new ones?”

“You couldn’t even kill me with the dagger you have. Does that answer your question?”

Astarion’s mouth pulled into a grin. “At least you admit that you’re awful in a fight.”

Mintly didn’t reply, instead starting off on the path down. She dodged around a gaggle of children playing a game of keep away and ducked under a poorly tossed bag of grain. She smiled. This place was comforting, in its own, off-beat way. Despite the greater circumstances that loomed over the head of every person here, it was homey and familiar. Mintly could see herself spending hours, sitting in the sun on the rocks, just enjoying the sounds of people and the community they shared.

The blacksmith didn’t see them approach. He was bent over his furnace, back turned.

“Hello,” Mintly said and, when he didn’t respond, she said again louder, “Hello!”

The tiefling jumped, dropping the tool he held in his hand and falling backwards onto the ground. He twisted to look behind him and flushed. “Oh, oh, I’m sorry. I, uh, didn’t see you there.”

Astarion chuckled and Mintly nudged an elbow back towards him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said.

The blacksmith pushed himself to his feet, brushing off his hands on his apron and leaving long black soot marks in the fabric. “I get far too absorbed in my work, bad habits and all that.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing,” Mintly replied.

“No, I guess not.” The blacksmith smiled. “Dammon, by the way. I’d offer to let you see my wares but I’m afraid I’ve got barely a thing on me. Just what I was able to carry.” He looked back over at the furnace. “Damn thing keeps going out.”

Mintly frowned. She eyed the furnace, then raised one of her hands. “I can try to start it again, if you’d like.” She lit a small flame in the palm of her hand.

“Oh, I, uh.” Dammon watched the flames dance, utterly entranced for a moment. Then he blinked and nodded. “Yeah, yeah if you wouldn’t mind.”

Mintly moved around the table and bent near the opening of the furnace. The thing was caked with soot and still radiated heat. She held her hand out and cast a small spell, flames leaping from her fingers and onto the coals.

The flame took with a WHOOSH, cinders curling outwards from the door and spraying smoke and ash.

Mintly gasped, filling her lungs with the debris and immediately fell into a coughing fit. Her eyes burned. She stumbled back, landing hard on the ground almost exactly where the blacksmith had. She crawled backwards, alternating between trying to draw in breath and coughing out what breath she was able to get in. Hands grabbed around her arms and pulled her back along the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” Dammon said. He dropped a wet rag into Mintly’s hands. “Here, for your eyes.”

Any attempt at speaking now wouldn’t end well, so Mintly took the rag with a nod and started to dab at her eyes. She blinked quickly, then lifted the rag to them again. When her coughing had finally subsided, she sighed. “Well, the furnace certainly has an attitude.”

“Much like someone else we know,” Astarion said with a laugh.

Mintly didn’t even bother turning around. She wiped at her face, seeing the rag had turned black. She was probably filthy. She started to push herself to her feet, feeling Dammon grab under her arms again to help her up. She gave him a smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I’m still just sorry that happened. You were just trying to help.”

“And look where that got you,” Astarion said. He leaned in forwards, looking out over Mintly’s shoulder. She hadn’t realized he’d gotten so close. “Perhaps you should start keeping your nose out of other people’s business.” He paused. “And their furnaces.”

Dammon flushed again. “No, no, I don’t mind. You asked and I agreed. And besides, you’re the one that came out of it...” He gestured to her robe.

Mintly groaned, and gave herself a once over. It looked like a dragon had sneezed all over her. “That is not going to come out.”

“Not easily, I’m afraid,” Dammon said. He looked down at his own robe. “Well, the least I can do is let you see what I’ve got to sell. Like I had said, it’s not much. I’d let you take something for free for your troubles, but I’m going to need all the coin I can get.”

Astarion raised a brow, straightening himself out. “For a new furnace, I hope.”

“First and foremost,” Dammon replied with a chuckle. “But with this whole... bloodline issue, I’m starting out from square one again. Hopefully Baldur’s Gate will offer me the fresh start I need, horns and all.”

Mintly opened her mouth to respond, but decided against it. “Of course, I understand. What do you have to sell?”

As Dammon had expressed, his selection was small, but it was still much better than what she or Astarion had on them. They had just enough gold to pick up a pair of daggers and a beautifully woven staff. Mintly was sure Dammon was still cutting the prices, despite his earlier comment, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she handed over the gold and wished him good luck in Baldur’s Gate.

She and Astarion had just reached the top path again when Astarion, who was turning his new blades over in his hands, spoke.

“Well,” he said, “you should fall into furnaces more often.”

Mintly huffed. “Right, so you can have a good laugh. I’m sure you don’t get many of those.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, it was very funny. It still is,” Astarion said, dragging his eyes from her boots back up to her eyes. “But no, I’m talking about the way you had that poor man wrapped around your finger. Had you just pushed a little more, I’m sure he’d have given up his entire stock for two gold pieces and a smile.”

“I did no such thing,” Mintly replied, shaking her head. The very idea made her uncomfortable. “He was just being kind.”

“Stupidity is charming to some people,” Astarion continued. He twisted his blade over his fingers, holding it up as if to look at his reflection. “And you are awfully stupid, my dear. I mean, did you honestly not consider the idea that you would get coated in soot? Even just a little?”

“A little wouldn’t have been an issue. I didn’t think it would... puke all of this on me.”

“Your mistake, then.”

“And I’m not stupid.” Mintly moved so her face was in line with Astarion’s. “I was just trying to help that man, not trick him into selling us something cheaper. Not everything has to be a game.”

Astarion lowered his dagger and gave her an expression she couldn’t quite read. It laid somewhere between confusion and... pity. He shrugged, stowing his dagger away on his belt and then gestured to the road in front of them. “Shall we, darling?”

Mintly narrowed her eyes, but decided not to press the issue. She would, as she had told Astarion, take it up with him later. Instead, she turned on a heel and started off towards the front gates of the grove. The walk back to camp wasn’t far, and Mintly was once again thankful that they had decided to set it up so close to the grove. Only a half an hour had passed before she could see the small stream of smoke weaseling it’s way up between the trees.

Lae’zel was set outside her tent, her sword sat in her lap and she polished it to a brilliant shine. She didn’t even give a cursory glance as Mintly and Astarion walked into camp.

Wyll looked like he hadn’t even noticed.

Shadowheart, however, did. She gave Mintly a curious look opened her mouth to say something, but Mintly held up her hand to stop her.

“I’ll explain later,” she said.

Astarion, however, was not behold to such a gesture. “She fell into a furnace.”

“Fell?” Shadowheart repeated. “Into a furnace?”

“I didn’t - never mind.” Mintly made a beeline for the campfire, plopping herself outside it and rummaging through the nearby baskets for something to cook. She found a small sausage link, buried deep beneath a bunch of hard breads and... bugs? Who in Hells is eating bugs? Too annoyed to question it aloud, she grabbed a stick and started her link over the fire. Mintly saw Wyll shuffle in her peripheral. He got to his feet and started to make his way over.

“A furnace, huh?”

Mintly sighed. She was surprised he had heard any of their conversation. “Yeah.”

“It certainly looks like you took a fight to one. And lost.”

“They can have attitudes, I learned.”

“Most things do.” Wyll plopped down beside the fire. “Though I am interested to hear the whole story.”

“It’s not that exciting. I tried to light a furnace and it thought it would be a good idea to spit on me.”

Wyll chuckled. “Why were you lighting a furnace?”

Mintly smiled despite herself. “Because some blacksmith couldn’t get it to light so I offered to do it for him. And this,” she gestured to her robes, “are the thanks I get.”

“No good deed goes unpunished, as they say.” He nodded to where Mintly had laid her staff. “Picking up some new stabby bits, are you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Mintly reached behind her to pull her staff into her lap. She hadn’t really had a chance to appreciate how finely crafted it was. The wood was polished to a smooth finish, and the top tendrils had been carefully curled around a single green gem at the top. Even in an idle state, she could feel the power behind that glittering surface. “I got this, and Astarion got some new daggers.”

“New daggers? Let’s hope he doesn’t decide to put them to use on us,” Wyll said, sounding only half joking. He did a quick look in Astarion’s direction - a look Astarion seemed to catch onto. “He certainly seems taken with them.”

Mintly shrugged. “I don’t see the appeal, but I am a mage, so I might be a bit biased.”

“A bit?” Wyll said with a grin.

Mintly shook her head, reaching forwards to test her sausage. It was barely warm. Her stomach grumbled. She leaned it back over the fire as she and Wyll sat in a peaceful silence. The birds chirped overhead and a slight breeze rustled the leaves in the canopy. She turned her sausage link over. “You don’t,” she started slowly. “You don’t think I’m stupid, do you?”

Wyll, who had laid back in the sunlight, sat up. “What?”

“Never mind, stupid question.”

“No,” Wyll said. He rolled over so he was facing Mintly. “No, I don’t think you’re stupid.”

Mintly laughed, though it was more out of embarrassment than anything. “Good.”

Wyll looked like he had more to say, but he didn’t. He watched Mintly a moment more before he rose to his feet. “We should think about getting something for dinner. I don’t think that one sausage is going to hold us all over. Would you want to come along?”

“Oh, no, I think I’ve done enough walking around today. Besides, I think Lae’zel has been itching to kill something all day,” Mintly replied, shaking her head.

Wyll shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll try and catch something bigger than a squirrel this time!”

Mintly watched him wander over to Lae’zel’s tent, but her eyes instead landed on Astarion. He was sitting outside his tent, book laid out in his lap, but his focus entirely on her. He didn’t look away, instead looking almost pleased that she’d caught him staring. He tilted his head, as if inviting her to say something. She frowned, turning her attention back to her food in the campfire.

It was dark when Mintly saw Ingrid and Gale coming up the path towards camp again. Wyll had yet to return with Lae’zel and Shadowheart had long since left to find herself something to eat. So Mintly had been left alone to make herself a meager vegetable soup and, all the while, feel Astarion's gaze drilling holes in the side of her head. She was surprised he hadn’t said anything to her at all. Typically the trouble was getting him to keep his mouth shut.

She leaned back from the fire, planning to wave them over, when she saw they had stopped a ways back from camp. When she squinted to see better, her face broke out into a grin. Where they... holding hands? Mintly bit her lip to keep from shouting over to them and breaking the moment. Instead, she looked away, not wanting to intrude, and stirring the simmering pot of broth.

“They seem to have gotten closer.”

Mintly startled, her eyes jumping to Astarion who had, at some point, crouched beside her. She hadn’t even heard him get up. He moved so damn quietly. “Yeah. Seems they had a good trip.”

“Better than yours, absolutely. Well,” Astarion tipped his head to the side. “At least in part. You and Wyll seemed to have a lovely conversation.”

Mintly laughed. “Yes, we did. What, are you jealous?”

Astarion didn’t answer. He kept his head tipped for a second more, eyes drawn in thought, then rose to his feet. “Unfortunate that he didn’t come back with dinner in time. Oh well.”

Mintly’s stomach did a strange twist. She watched as Astarion then sauntered over to Ingrid and Gale, catching the latter as he started walking back to his tent. By the look on Gale’s face, it seemed Astarion had decided to reignite the argument from earlier. She looked back to the fire, trying to push whatever it was brewing in her gut out of her mind. That sausage must’ve gone bad. And yet, despite her best efforts to the contrary, her mind raced. She pressed her fingers into her temples and sighed loudly, hearing footsteps draw up behind her.

“Long day?” Ingrid asked.

Mintly didn’t pick up her head. “Yeah. Long day. And a bad sausage.”


	3. Darkness Within Darkness

When she arrived at camp, Ingrid had a brief conversation with Mintly before the latter wandered off in desperate need for a bath. The other companions had their fill of dinner Mintly made that even and all returned to their respective tents. Before heading to her own tent, Ingrid made her way to the fire in hopes that there were still leftovers in the pot that was strung over the glowing embers. As she approached she could smell the deep vegetable aroma of soup getting stronger and stronger. If were to guess, it would be a combination of the wild carrots growing around their camp, potatoes from the Druid gardens, and the beef broth Mintly made a few days prior. If there were a prize for being right, Ingrid would have won. Upon opening the lid, Ingrid could see chunks of carrot and potatoes floating around in the dark brown broth. Other vegetables floated among them. Onion maybe? Perhaps turnip? Ingrid didn’t know for sure. However, what she was sure of was that she wanted a bowl right. now. 

She sat by the fire and quietly ate her soup. The warmth of the soup warmed her up on the inside while the fire warmed up the outside of her body. Along with the crackle from the embers, the sound of the night time creatures also filled her ears. It was times like these that Ingrid felt at peace. The problems of the world faded out of mind for just a few hours every day. Then, sleep would fall over Ingrid and she would wake up and remember every single problem she had to face that day. Major issues such as the tadpole in her brain and the past she was running from, to minor issues such as Astarion being a fucking asshole and what she was going to eat that day. But at least she had Mintly. Her first friend. 

The two had found each other after they were thrown from their pods during the Githyanki attack on the Nautiloid. They, along with the help of Lae’zel, were able to make their way through the burning ship to the farthest end of the helm to connect the transponder. Somehow they had managed to crash near each other on the beach, and since then they were inseparable. It was like finding a long lost sister -- both getting into mischief at the expense of the other companions, not really having to worry about what the other would think about a situation because they would know just by asking themselves: “What would Ingrid/Mintly do?” Maybe it was the tadpole connecting their minds 24/7, or maybe they were just immediately trusting with each other? Either way, this life saving quest would have been insufferable without her. 

The rustling of leaves dragged Ingrid out of her thoughts. Looking over her shoulder she saw Astarion walk into the camp from a slightly less-worn path to the east of the campsite. He was slightly caught off guard; he was wiping his mouth off on his sleeve and was not expecting someone to be sitting at the fire. That expression was gone as quickly as it came. Ingrid gave him a polite smile and a nod, and in return he gave a slight scowl and made his way over to his tent without saying a word. Ingrid drank the remainder of her soup and looked into the pot to see if there was anything worth saving. At that point there was not. The bottom of the pot was visible, so she carefully took it off of its hooks and began walking in the direction of the river to clean. As she walked, her mind began to wander.

* * *

_ A young drow balanced herself on a cluster of uneven rocks, switching from foot to foot practicing dexterity and coordination. This was part of her training according to no one but herself. The girl wanted to fight, but she also wanted to protect herself. Living in the Underdark meant that you needed to learn to defend yourself, and you needed to learn  _ **_fast_ ** _. However, noble families didn’t have to worry too much about defending themselves as they had guards ready to defend them. However, there was always a chance. A chance for a one-in-a-million attack, or backstabbing… literally. Some form of combat training was necessary, especially for the young drow girls unfortunately.  _

_ Picking up a branch from the ground, the drow began to thrust it as if it were a sword into an unseen enemy. First without moving their feet, but then using them to lunge. On the return from the lunge the drow lost their footing and fell onto the ground, skinning their knee in the process.  _

_ “OW,” The drow yelped in pain. They pulled their knee up to them to inspect the damage and saw dark red blood begin to pool at the scrape and spill over. With saliva on their thumb, the drow wiped the pooling blood off and onto the ground, tears stinging their eyes. “Training hurts, Mystra.” _

_ A glowing ball of light appeared in front of the drow and began to laugh. A beautiful, melodic laugh that felt warm and comforting -- like that of a mother. “My dear, Ingrid, you’re just getting started. One day soon you’ll be tough enough to handle almost any scrape that happens.” _

_ “And I’ll have magic!” Ingrid exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air in excitement.  _

_ The light chucked. “Yes, and you will have magic. But that comes much later. You have much to learn before we learn even the most basic of spells.” _

_ With a huff Ingrid put her arms down and crossed them in front of her. She wanted to learn magic now. Magic was much more important than learning to poke someone with a stick. Maybe she could sneak into the library of the town and attempt to teach herself a really powerful spell...something like Fireball, or maybe something more simple like fly so she could everywhere instead of walking.  _

_ “Ingrid, I know you want to learn magic. I promise that will happen, but it is important to learn hand to hand combat and sword fighting. There will be times in your journey where magic won’t be the best option, or even an option at all,” Mystra said. _

_ “I knoooow,” Ingrid groaned and laid back on the ground. “It’s just so hard to learn from someone I can’t see. Why can’t I see you? Why can’t you come see me?” _

_ “I know it’s difficult, but it’s safer for you this way,” Mystra comforted. “Our meeting will happen, as I have foreseen it.” The last part was a lie. Mystra did not know if or when she would meet her young follower. It was dangerous for Mystra to leave the confines of the weave, and it was especially dangerous for Ingrid to be seen with someone who was not of the Underdark. This method of training was not ideal for either of them, but for both of their sakes it had to work. She hoped that the two would see each other one day, but the young, budding warlock had much to learn before she was to venture up to the World Above… if that were to even happen.  _

_ The unfortunate thing about being a patron to someone in the Underdark was that more often than not they were going to end up being killed. Most of the drow living under the surface followed the Queen of Spiders, Lolth and those who were in opposition, or spoke ill of her, were murdered. The “good” drow were often in hiding; faking support for Lolth in order to survive. Children of drow did not have the inherent evil as the adults, though the adults weren’t necessarily evil either. Generations of being targeted by the World Above elves and inhabitants have created a great distrust for the drows, even amongst each other. Children have a chance to expand their minds, but many choose not to in fear of harassment and violence.  _

_ Mystra stumbling upon Ingrid was by sheer chance. She found the girl huddled over a dying creature, crying because she wasn’t able to save it or bring it peace as it passed. She kept her eye on the girl for years and watched her grow. The caring heart did not falter as it normally does when drow children grow, but she did recognize that Ingrid had to wear a mask of sorts to fit in. This left her exhausted by the end of the day, and she had no one to turn to for comfort. She was the only child of one of the last remaining noble families of drow; her mother dying shortly after Ingrid’s birth. She was blamed for her mother’s death, and growing up she felt no comfort from her father. He made sure she had a place to sleep and food to eat, but nothing more and nothing less. The only requirement he had for her was to marry another, more powerful nobel family to combine houses and continue the family legacy. This was a requirement Ingrid did not want to meet from a young age. She dreamt of a life out of the Underdark, and Mystra hoped that she could help make that happen for her. All Ingrid had to do was make it to the age of adulthood, and then she would not be bound to her father’s will and would be able to venture up without an escort.  _

_ But Ingrid and Mystra would learn that things never go as the plan. _

* * *

A hand on Ingrid’s shoulder pulled her out her memories. “SHIT,” She yelled, dropping the pot on the ground, the loud clang of the ringing through the forest. Ingrid quickly turned around to see who startled here, only to find Gale with his hands up in a cautious manner. 

“I am so terribly sorry, Ingrid. I thought you heard me calling your name,” Gale began, “But it seems as though I was mistaken. You were very deep in thought….or washing the dinner pot.” Ingrid sighed, not bothering to respond at the moment, and picked up the pot from the ground, noticing the dirt on the outside of the one-cleaned pot. Her thoughts had trailed to long-suppressed memories and now she was upset. Upset and spooked. She took a handful of water from the river and did another rinse of the pot just to get everything cleaned. After the second clean Ingrid placed the pot on a patch of clean grass and sat down with a thud and rested her chin in her hands -- staring out onto the river and watching the glow of the moon dance on the ripples.

The silence from Ingrid was enough to concern Gale. He took a seat next to Ingrid on the ground. “Is everything alright?” Ingrid looked over to see the concerned look on Gale’s face staring back at her. 

Ingrid put the weight of her head onto the left hand and absentmindedly began to draw circles in the damp dirt with her right. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just got a little… too in my head washing the pot that's all.” 

Gale looked unconvinced. “Really? You never look that upset when you’re thinking.”

“Oh? Ha, I guess I wasn’t really paying too much attention to my facial expressions,” Ingrid chuckled lightly. “But everything is fine, truly. I was just thinking about a memory from when I was a kid.” 

“It didn’t seem like it was a pleasant one.”

“Actually, it was, but I can understand why my expression would say otherwise. Any memory of home, pleasant or bad, garners an expression like that.”

“What was it like?” Gale asked. “Your home?”

Ingrid shifted slightly. Discussions about her home in the Underdark made her uncomfortable. She actively tried to forget her life there, or at least suppress it as best as she could. However, some nights it was hard to do so. Her thoughts would trail prior to going to bed, and when she slept she would have nightmares of her former home. Right now, she could not think about it. There were much more important things to be worried about instead of the home she ran away from. 

“You don’t have to answer,” Gale added, noticing the discomfort. “It seems as though it's a subject you wish to not speak about.”

This time Ingrid let out a laugh. “Am I really that easy to read? I try so hard to be as mysterious as the others.” She wiped the dirt on her fingers onto her pants and leaned back onto the soft patch of grass behind her. “Home is… sad. Depressing. Dark.  _ Dangerous. _ ” 

Gale looked down at her with his eyebrows perked up at the mention of danger.

“I don’t like talking about it much for many reasons; one day I think I’ll talk about it. It’s difficult to be a child in the Underdark. You’re always fighting for survival,” Ingrid continued. “Not that the children up here have it easy, but there is a very striking difference between childhood here and childhood down there.” She gestured vaguely to the air around her. The children in the World Above seemed much more carefree and were allowed to have fun; far below the children had to fight to stay alive.

“I’d be more than willing to listen if you needed me to,” Gale offered. A small smile came over Ingrid’s lips. She appreciated the concern. 

“One day, maybe. No promises though,” She said. “I’d much rather talk about the world up here. There’s so much! There are  _ stars. _ I’ve lived up here for years now, but a clear, starry night always takes my breath away.”

The love of astronomy captured Ingrid many years before she came to the World Above. Her father acquired some books for her as a child and she read them until she could recite them word for word without glancing down at the pages. Her travels above lead her to small village libraries to read more, and meeting rangers who discussed the use of stars when it came to getting back home. Stars were so important to people and to think she could have gone her whole life without even seeing one in person? 

A small smile came over Gale’s face as he listened to Ingrid discuss her love of the stars that shone brightly above her head. He spread out more on the ground and rested himself on his left arm to get a better view of the sky as Ingrid pointed out the constellations above their heads. Though she was pointing out the stars above, Gale was fixated on the happiness that slowly crept back across Ingrid’s face -- and she was oblivious to it all. 

Some time had gone by while Ingrid talked about the stars. The late night animals had begun to make their way around the forest in search of their food. Hearing the rustling of the owl that hooted nearby caused Ingrid to suddenly stop mid-sentence. “Oh my gosh. I did it again,” she groaned as she covered her face with her hands. 

“Did what?”   
  
“I talked your ear off and now it's so late!”

“Is it really?” 

“Yes, I’m so sorry, Gale. You just wanted to read your books from the library today and here I am boring you to death about _fucking_ stars.”

“Ingrid, I don’t mind,” Gale said, removing a leaf that had gotten caught in her hair. “I enjoyed listening to you talk about something you're passionate about.” 

Ingrid peeked up at Gale from between her fingers, shocked that he wasn’t lying dead from boredom. Instead, he was looking at her as if she were the most interesting person he had ever met with a huge grin on his face. She could feel her cheeks getting more color in them the longer she noticed him stare at her, but instead she propped herself up to be at eye level with him. The two sat there in silence, enjoying the company of the other and listening to the forest around them come more alive. 

“I think we should get back to camp,” Ingrid said after some time. “Not sure what’s in store for us tomorrow, but we should get some sleep.” With the pot in one hand, Ingrid began to stand up from her laying position on the ground. 

“Please, let me help,” Gale said, taking the pot from her, beating her at getting up off of the ground. He placed his hand underneath Ingrid’s forearm to help her steady herself as she got up. When she found her footing, Ingrid reached for the pot that was still in Gale’s hand. “No, no. Don’t worry. I’ll put this by the fire.” He stepped back and twisted the pot out of her reach. The movement caused his hand to move from her arm to her hand -- gently holding it between them. Ingrid could feel her cheeks filling with color more, praying it was too dark for Gale to see. She was able to notice, however, his ears showing a tinge of color on them starting to form. Gale looked as though he were about to say something, but he decided against it. He let go of her hand and let them fall to their respective sides. 

A light appeared in his hand and he placed it on the pot, causing it to glow. The forest around them became illuminated, the blushing from both of them visible to the other. With a quick bow, Gale turned around and began walking back to his spot at the beach. “I have some items at the beach I have to collect, but you head back to camp,” he called over his shoulder. “I shall see you in the morning.” 

Before she could respond, Gale was already out of earshot down the path. Ingrid stood there for a moment, but eventually collected her things and quietly made her way back to camp, smiling like a fool.

* * *

When Ingrid woke up the next morning the sun was already set at mid-morning.  _ Shit, _ she thought to herself.  _ I couldn’t have been out that late. Why didn’t anyone wake me up? _ She stepped out of her tent to find herself standing in a damp, empty cavern. The sunlight she saw through her tent came from the chandelier hanging above her tent. Looking around she saw the tents of the others, dull in color and eerily quiet. She felt a wave of dread wash over her as the cavern around her became more and more familiar to her. 

_ She was home. _

As quickly, and quietly, as she could, Ingrid made over to Mintly’s tent close by. “Mintly…  _ Mintly _ ,” Ingrid whispered fiercely. No sound came from the tent. She quietly undid the clasps that held the front patch shut and saw that the tent was empty. The bedroll had been moved around and there were signs of a struggle. Ingrid’s stomach churned at the thought of Mintly crying out for help but no one coming to save her. Looking around at the nearby tents, Ingrid assumed the same fell onto them. She turned her eyes towards the ground -- no blood. They were kidnapped, but they also didn’t show signs of a struggle. She knew the others would go down swinging, but the fact that they were all clean kidnappings?  _ Weird. _

Why was she the only one in her tent? 

Why wasn’t she taken as well? 

Why were they in the  _ Underdark _ ?

A powerful spell must have been casted on them all when Ingrid and Gale finally went to bed themselves, but surely one of them would have heard the kidnappers approach. Where was Scratch? He was the best guard dog around. He would have started barking at the first smell of uncertainty. Ingrid felt the hairs on her neck stick up -- someone was watching her. She turned around to face her own tent only to see a building looming over her. It was a two-story home that looked almost like a fortress. Tall walls surrounded the perimeter; stone was breaking off in some areas and covered in moss and grime in others and the metal fencing along the wall dulled to barely a point. The house itself seemed as if it were watching her. 

_ Ingrid was outside of her  _ **_own_ ** _ home. _

_ In the Underdark. _

Ingrid’s stomach lurched. What was in her stomach emptied out onto the ground in front of her, the acid of her stomach burning her throat. Why was she home? She couldn’t be here. She  _ shouldn’t  _ be here. Without taking her eyes off the house she began to slowly walk backwards, thinking the house was going to do something if she took her eyes off of it. Ingrid planned on turning and running, running to where she thought the exit from her cavern home was, but that wasn’t going to happen. As she turned to make a break for it, she smashed into something hard. Before she could comprehend what had happened, two hands gripped her arms tightly and Ingrid yelped out in pain. She looked up to see a man holding onto her, his face hidden underneath the darkness of the hood of his cloak. She could see the light from the chandelier bounce off of his eyes that were staring at her.

“You couldn’t hide forever, Ingrid,” a gravelly voice growled. Ingrid winced in pain as he tightened his grip on her arms. “I have found you. Now, you’re going to wish that thing in your head was the only thing you had to worry about.” 

Ingrid’s body went ice cold.  _ Filraen.  _ He knew where she was at. He took her friends. There was no doubt about it. Instead of responding, Ingrid began thrashing about in his grip praying that she’d be able to wiggle herself out of his grasp. Filraen was amused by her struggling and began to laugh. “You’re trapped now. Finally. After all these years.” He removed one hand from her arm, the grip strength never faltering, and reached into the pocket of his clock. He pulled out a dagger,  _ Ingrid's dagger _ , and twirled it around in the light. The crystal knife of the dagger seemed to glow under the light of the chandelier above. 

“You really are beautiful when you’re afraid.” He placed the tip of the dagger over her heart, pushing in until it broke the surface. Ingrid’s breathing halted. She could feel the blood pool and begin to drip down her chest. “But I’m afraid beauty isn’t enough anymore. I wonder what it is like to die by your own blade? Let us find out.”

Filraen lifted the dagger slightly and plunged it deep into Ingrid’s heart. 

Darkness fell over Ingrid and a faint smell of rosewater filled the air.

* * *

“STOP!” Ingrid cried as she bolted up from her bedroll, her ears ringing. Her shirt clung to her back, sticking from an icy sweat that poured from her body. Her heart was pounding and chest hurt where the dagger plunged into her, but when she put a hand up to that spot it was clean. No blood. A dream. No, a  _ nightmare _ . A nightmare that felt too real for her comfort. A nightmare that she did not want to come true.

Suddenly, her tent flap was pulled open and the sunlight of the day poured in. As her eyes adjusted a blurry form stood in front of the sunlight. Covering her eyes she was able to make out the curl of horns sticking out from the person’s head --  _ Mintly. _ Ingrid saw her mouth moving, but she couldn’t hear a thing. Her ears were still ringing louder than Mintly’s voice. The confused look on Ingrid’s face must have concerned Mintly as she suddenly began to shake the drow in an attempt to get the confusion out of her.

Mintly knelt down to Ingrid’s level and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.  _ ‘Are you okay?’  _ Ingrid heard Mintly’s voice in her head. She had cast the spell message on her in hopes that she would hear in her mind rather than through her ears. 

_ Are you okay? _

The question caused a swell of emotion to course through Ingrid and with an audible sob she threw her arms around Mintly. “ **_No._ ** ”

At the other end of camp stood Shadowheart, Astarion, and Gale watching the scene take place. “What is going on?” Shadowheart asked looking over at Astarion. His eyes were fixated on the two in Ingrid’s tent. 

“Nightmare,” He said after some time, still looking at the tent. 

“What do you mean nightmare? Drows don’t sleep do they?” She asked. “How did you figure that out?”

“He and Mintly are communicating telepathically,” Gale interjected. “A simple cantrip most likely.”

“That is correct,” Astarion replied. “And no, drows do not sleep as you guys do. Like elves, they merely meditate. Having a nightmare nonetheless is just as rare.” 

Gale turned his attention towards Ingrid and Mintly. He felt relief as he saw that Ingrid seemed to have calmed down enough. She wasn’t crying anymore and the two were just chatting together on the bedroll. His relief was soon replaced with guilt as he recalled their conversation the night before. Had their brief conversation about her life in the Underdark caused her nightmare?

“If Ingrid is prone to earth shattering nightmares like this, then I might move my tent up the hill,” Shadowheart gestured to the uneven ground that surrounded Ingrid’s tent. The terrain around it was uneven and jagged. Definitely uncomfortable to sleep on one more night. “I don’t want to be the target for the next one.”

“Oh don’t worry, you won't be the target. If this were something she could control, Ingrid would send it at me. How I love pressing her buttons,” Astarion grinned. 

“Maybe it’s time to cut that out. Someone, or some _ thing, _ is causing Ingrid to fall asleep and my guess is that her body’s reaction is to shatter the ground around her to wake her up,” Gale snapped. 

Sensing that this conversation was about to start heading downhill quickly, Shadowheart silently removed herself by slowly stepping away and heading to her own tent once more. There were more things to be concerned about than a petty quarrel between those two.

“Easy there,” Astarion began, motioning Gale to calm down. “Don’t get your robe all twisted up into a knot.”

Gale rubbed his temples in frustration as he was trying to keep himself calm, actively avoiding engaging in a yelling match with Astarion.

“Is it really that hard for you to care about someone other than yourself?”

“Yes, very. It’s exhausting.”

“Hells. Can you just pretend for a minute? It won't kill you.”

“Sure, I’ll start counting to sixty starting….now.” 

“You’re the absolute worst.”

“You’re flattering me, Gale. Do I need to tell Ingrid you found someone new to pursue? Besides, she’s fine.”

“Are you really going to stand here and tell me that she’s fine? You saw that look of terror over her face and determined that she was  _ fine _ ? No nightmare makes someone cast fucking shatter to wake themselves up.

Gale’s fist was clenched, ready to strike if Astarion said one more condescending word and Astarion was opening his mouth to do just that. 

“ **_ASTARION. GALE_ ** .”

The both of them quickly turned their heads over to Mintly, who was glaring angrily at the both of them. The anger that she had was almost tangible and both began to fidget uncomfortably. It was not pleasant being on the receiving end of Mintly’s glare. Ingrid stared at the three of them confused, absently petting Scratch who had made his way over to them some time earlier. Unaware of the scolging they were about to receive in their heads. 

_ Both of you need to knock it the fuck off. You’re acting like fucking children.  _ Mintly’s voice hissed in their heads.  _ Get away from each other. _

Astarion and Gale stood there glaring at each other, the tension high between them. Breaking the staring contest, Astarion casted a glance over to Ingrid who had just begun to have a conversation with Mintly. A quick wave of empathy came over his face and quickly left, but Gale was able to catch it in time. 

“You better hope that whatever is causing these terrors is something that could easily be resolved,” Astarion said at a volume only they could hear. “Hundreds of years of fear and nightmares does nothing but wear you down.”

Gale pondered at the comment for a moment. He was right. Whatever was haunting Ingrid needed to be taken care of. For her sake and for the rest of the group. There was no way of knowing when her next nightmare would be, but he would make sure to quietly mention to the others, sans Astarion, not to bring up anything regarding Ingrid’s homelife to her. However, he silently hoped that one day they would be able to do so, though at the same time, he also wished that their adventures did not have to take them to the dangerous world below them.


	4. Baths, Beds, and Beyond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by Illubuu! This chapter takes places at the same time as the previous chapter -- but this time it's Mintly's point of view!

"And that's why I'm going to take a bath."

"You didn't think to take one earlier?"

"I did, I would just rather take one when there is less traffic around camp."

“Don’t you have a magic spell for that?”

Mintly chuckled. “Probably, but I’ve never learned it.”

Ingrid frowned. "So you're going to make me eat supper all alone?"

"That's what you get for spending all evening with Gale," Mintly said. She saw Ingrid flush and chuckled, giving her a gentle nudge on the shoulder. "Besides, I spent half the day here pondering my life, you can spend a half an hour here doing the same."

"Fine..." Ingrid pouted. She plopped down in front of the fire and reached for a bowl.

Mintly shook her head with a laugh, drifting over to her own tent to find one of her other robes. Most of her things were strewn about in random piles that were... mostly organized. The back corner was where she had decided her clothes should be, what little she had. She pulled out a new set and the small bottle of soap she'd bought from the vendor in the grove. It was a light green and smelled like the forest. Gathering her things in her arms,, she turned around and headed towards the river.

She glanced towards Ingrid, who was fully entranced in her soup, and Mintly smiled. It was good to see her happy, even if just with a bowl of soup. When she reached the banks she walked along them for a minute, rounding a bend and coming to a stop where she could no longer see the light of the campfire. She set her things down and started to disrobe. 

Gods, when was the last time she had an  _ actual _ bath? Gale had made mention of missing his hot lavender baths and - while Mintly herself had never had one quite that fancy - she, too, found herself missing them.

The water of the river was surprisingly comfortable. Mintly had expected it to be chilly snow melt from higher in the mountains and while it was no hot bath, it was better than she'd anticipated. She dipped herself beneath the surface, listening to the sounds of moving water.

Mintly's mind drifted then. To the Illithid ship. To the crash. To the groups first few days together. It had been an awful time, of panic and distress and distrust. There was still a lot of that to go around, that was to be sure, but it was nothing compared to the beginning. They had all been so sure they were going to die it was difficult to get anyone to agree on anything.

Lae'zel had been ready to slit Mintly & Ingrid's throats the minute they'd met on the ship and hardly much had changed.

Shadowheart seemed convinced everyone was out to get her and it was a miracle she had even agreed to join.

Gale and Wyll had both been a reasonable sort, seeing the value in travelling in a pack, though Gale did have a tendency to come off a bit condescending.

Astarion... what could Mintly say about the rogue. He outdid even Lae'zel in his attempt at her life when they first stumbled upon him. He resisted the group at every turn and yet remained with them. With the ample chances he had to leave, he should've been long gone by now.

It all felt like ages ago.

Mintly surfaced, breathing in the cool night air. She moved towards the shore and grabbed her bottle of soap, pouring a bit in her hand and then scrubbed it into her scalp.

And then there was Ingrid. The two of them had woken aboard the ship together and hadn't split since. It had started as a relationship of convenience, a shared desire to escape the ship, but had grown into something more like a sisterly bond. It was comforting to have someone Mintly knew she could trust completely. She knew she tended to assume the best in people, and it was exhausting to have to constantly debate if people were telling her the truth or just trying to get something from her. With Ingrid she didn’t have to wonder.

Mintly dunked her head again, washing the soap from her hair and scrubbing at her face to remove whatever soot might still remain. The water was nice enough that part of Mintly wanted to stay and soak a while longer, but the louder part of her knew she needed sleep. So she pulled herself up the banks and quickly dried herself. She slipped into her new clothes and, wrapping her old dirty ones up in her arms, returned to camp. She would worry about laundry later.

She saw Ingrid had moved to the other end of the river, scrubbing at one of the pots. Mintly felt momentarily bad for leaving Ingrid to clean the dishes but, upon remembering that she'd been the one to make dinner, the feeling fell away. 

The camp was empty, save for Scratch curled up beside the fire. He gave Mintly a quick glance and a tail wag as she passed by.

Mintly dipped inside her tent, suddenly exhausted. With the prospect of sleep so close, she could barely keep her eyes open. She dropped her clothing into the opposite corner of her clean ones and circled up into bed, asleep before she knew it.

* * *

And then, the world was exploding.

Mintly jolted away, her ears ringing and her vision blurry and warped. The ground beneath her was shaking. She threw herself out of her tent, rolling along the ground and then turning her gaze upwards, expecting to see a rain of fire or a dragon or  _ something. _ Instead, there was only the blue sky and the forest canopy.

Mintly looked around the camp, seeing the others had all pulled themselves from sleep in equal states of confusion. All except for Ingrid. Her tent sat in the center of a shallow crater that had no doubt been the result of a shatter spell. 

“Is this some sort of joke?” Astarion asked.

Mintly shook her head, frowning as her head started to spin. “I don’t know. Give me a second.” She made her way over to Ingrid’s tent, careful not to trip on the now uneven ground, and gently pulled the front flaps apart.

Inside, Ingrid was curled up around herself, her eyes wild and confused. Her blankets were a mess, strewn about her body and knotted around her legs. Her gaze darted around the tent in a panic before it finally landed on Mintly. She raised a hand to cover her face from the bright sunlight outside.

“Are you okay?” Mintly asked softly.

Ingrid didn’t respond. Her face was pale and sweaty and she looked about to cry. 

Mintly crouched to enter the tent a ways and gently grabbed a hold of Ingrid’s shoulders, trying to gently rouse Ingrid from her stupor. “Ingrid, are you alright?” Her skin was clammy under Mintly’s grasp. When she still didn’t reply, Mintly reached out with magic.  _ Are you okay? _

The reaction was almost instantaneous. A sob bubbled up from Ingrid’s throat and she reached to drag Mintly into a hug. “No.”

Mintly hadn’t been ready to be pulled and she stumbled forwards a bit, landed awkwardly on her knees. She turned, trying to settle into a more comfortable position without breaking Ingrid’s embrace. “What happened?”

“He was  _ here _ in  _ camp _ and all of you were  _ gone!” _ Ingrid babbled, the words flooding out between sobs. “I couldn’t break free, how did he even  _ get _ here? We were in the Underdark and it was so cold and I hate that place!”

Mintly didn’t reply right away. She knew she wasn’t going to get anything out of Ingrid until she calmed down. She pulled back from the hug and grabbed Ingrid’s hands in her own. They were shaking. “You’re alright, Ingrid. We’re not in the Underdark. We’re in the forest. You’re okay.”

“But I was in the Underdark! And he’d taken you all and I didn’t even  _ hear _ it. I didn’t even do anything to stop it! And, and how did he even get us there?  _ Me _ there? Gods he wouldn’t let go and...” 

“We’re alright. Everyone is alright.”

Ingrid placed a hand to her chest. She held it there a moment and then, with a sigh, looked to Mintly. “You’re okay?”

Mintly smiled. “Yes, I’m fine. We’re all okay.”

“Okay,” Ingrid replied. Her breathing had slowed to something more normal. “I think I had a nightmare.”

“You think?” Mintly chuckled. She would tell Ingrid about the shatter spell when they got there. She motioned to the blankets. “Looks like you were tossing and turning a while.”

Ingrid nodded, slowly taking in her surroundings. A concerned expression fell over her face. “But I don’t sleep.”

Mintly opened her mouth to speak again, but a voice in her head cut her off.

_ What the hell is going on in there? _

Astarion? Mintly reflexively turned around, looking back out through the flaps of the tent. She couldn’t see anything, or anyone. When the hell had he learned message? Or was he using the tadpole? When the hell had he learned to use the  _ tadpole? _

_ Well?  _ He pressed.

Mintly wanted to tell him to mind his own fucking business, but she figured he was likely outside with Gale and the others and at least a few of them were probably worried. She sighed.  _ Nightmare. _ She didn’t need to go into details. Ingrid could if she chose to.

Mintly could hear Astarion’s scoff in her head.  _ Nightmare? She’s an elf she doesn’t sleep! _

She didn’t get a chance to reply before Ingrid’s voice drew her back. “Did I wake everyone up?”

“Mostly everyone,” Mintly replied with a shrug. “I think Gale is a bit of a morning bird, so he might have been up already.”

Ingrid frowned. “So he might’ve heard the whole thing and didn’t do anything to stop it?”

Mintly bit her tongue. She raised a hand. “No, no I didn’t say that. It’s only a guess. You woke me up from a dead sleep, I thought the sky was falling.”

“I shouted that loud?”

“Well.” Mintly tipped her head in mock thought. Sleep-casting, especially for a race that didn’t sleep, was alarming to say the least. Even moreso considering it was looking like the spell had been  _ meant _ to wake her up. Some part of Ingrid’s mind had been so desperate to escape the nightmare that it had cast a spell to startle her awake. Or perhaps, Mintly thought with a growing sense of dread, it had been the tadpole.

“Mintly?”

Mintly blinked. “Oh, sorry. I was just... thinking.”

“Are you okay?”

Mintly chuckled, shoving the dread out of her mind. “I was asking  _ you  _ that.”

“And I answered it,” Ingrid replied, a smirk pulling onto her face. “You didn’t.”

“Yes, I’m fine I’m-” Mintly stopped short, whipping her head around to face the tent flaps again. She could hear behind her that Gale and Astarion were arguing. She couldn’t hear about what, but it was growing louder and the last thing she wanted to deal with was them. Not now. She hoped her anger came through with her message.

_ Astarion. Gale. _

She heard their voices fall silent.

_ Both of you need to knock it the fuck off. You’re acting like fucking children,  _ she hissed.  _ Get away from each other. _

Mintly didn’t bother to wait and see if they obeyed. If they didn’t there would be hell to pay. When she turned back to Ingrid, the drow was wearing a smile.

“What was that about?” she asked.

“They’re fucking arguing out there. Again.” Mintly pushed her hair back behind her ears. “I swear to Gods it’s like trying to herd cats sometimes.”

“Maybe they’re just worried.”

“Maybe  _ Gale _ is worried,” Mintly corrected. “But I don’t think Astarion knows how. And he was probably railing into Gale  _ about _ being worried.”

Ingrid nodded. “That... that sounds about right.” She started to get herself to her feet.

“One more thing,” Mintly said, reaching out a hand to Ingrid’s shoulder to sit her back down. “I should probably warn you. Your tent is... sitting in a creator.”


	5. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a shorter chapter to fill in the time between the previous chapter and the next!

“What do you mean my tent is sitting in a crater?” 

“I… well… How do I put this?” Mintly trailed off thinking of an easy way to explain to Ingrid she casted a spell in her sleep, a sleep she shouldn’t have been able to have in the first place. 

Instead of waiting for a response, Ingrid got up and quickly rushed past Mintly and stepped outside of her tent. Her eyes readjusted to the full brightness of the sun and found herself staring  _ up _ at the rest of the camp. Shadowheart, Gale, and Wyll gave her a confused look, while Astarion looked down at her with what she thought was as a concerned look he could muster. The look soon faded to annoyance when he noticed that she was staring at him. 

_ Typical _ .

After her eyes adjusted to the sun, Ingrid slowly turned around to fully see the crater that she had created. Her tent sat in the center, tears from the flying earth were visible to her now. The walls were at least a few feet high; rough terrain but nothing that she wouldn’t be able to climb out of quickly. There was no visible damage to the other tents, especially Mintly’s who placed her tent close by, though they all must be sharing the same pounding headache. 

Did she do this? Or was that the tadpole? Did the tadpole pull her into a sleep? 

Her thoughts were racing once again, chest tightening and breathing started to become shallow. She could feel the sting of tears forming in her eyes. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It  _ couldn’t _ have happened. Everyone was staring at her like she was crazy, like she was losing her mind. And she might be. She felt like she was floating, the world moving slowly as she turned back to the rest of the group; tears that she held back were freely flowing now.

Time seemed to move slowly as darkness crept over her peripheral vision, eventually over her entire vision. She could feel her body falling, but it felt so slow. The yells from the others sounded so far away, and even Mintly, who was the closest and currently running towards here, looked so far away. She hoped Mintly was able to catch her before she hit the uneven ground beneath her, but she had already lost consciousness before she found out. 

* * *

One of the first senses that came back was touch. Ingrid could feel herself on soft grass and something damp being placed on her forehead, but her eyes wouldn’t open. She was alive, obviously, but not fully conscious yet. Smell was the next scent to come back after her episode. She could smell the scent of meat cooking over the fire. Pork? Bacon? She couldn’t figure it out just yet but her mouth slightly watered at the thought of eating it. She could also smell the scent of the wildflowers that grew around camp. The next sense to come back to her was hearing. Ingrid could hear arguing. Though she couldn’t make out what the people were saying, she was able to pick out  _ who _ was arguing with  _ who _ . She could hear Mintly’s voice the loudest, followed by Wyll -- who just spoke loudly in general, and Gale and Astarion. Knowing the group, they were most likely arguing over something insensitive Astarion said. 

“What are we going to do?” Wyll asked. “She’s going to end up killing either us or herself.” 

“This is the first time that this has happened, no need to start assuming the worst,” Mintly retorted. 

“Well, what do you think we should do? It’s not like we can just go up and ask what the fuck happened. She’s been out cold for at least two hours.” 

“If her nightmare was about the Underdark she’s not going to talk about it,” Gale stated. “I fear that I might have been the domino that started it all.”

“You know, I’m not surprised in the slightest,” Astarion said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But please amuse me. I would love to know why you’re the one that might end up killing us.”

_ You don’t know the half of it _ , is what Gale wanted to say. The words were on his tongue, but he swallowed them. Now wasn’t the time to bring up his personal problem. “She was already having a bit of a bad evening and I pried too much.” 

Astarion clapped his hands together. “Absolutely wonderful. You’re incessant thirst for knowledge might have just doomed us all. Not only do we have to worry about the tadpole, but now Ingrid killing us in her sleep.”

“Maybe it’s a warlock thing?” Mintly asked, looking over to Wyll for support. “Can patrons do that?”

Wyll scratched his chin in thought. “There are records of vassals meeting their patron, though it is very rare… plus, the instances in which they appear have only occurred when the vassal is in imminent danger or close to death, but never in a dream as you have stated.”

Mintly felt dread wash over her. “What if… it wasn’t a dream? What if some form of magic pulled her into a deep sleep and was able to kill her that way?”

“Breathe, Mintly,” Wyll comforted, patting her shoulder. “For all we know, it could have been the tadpole fucking with her, testing her mentally, and her patron putting a stop to it. Not that it helps us any if that’s what we’re in for, but still. Also, weren’t you just saying not to assume the worst?” He winked at her. 

Astarion rolled his eyes in disgust, though his insides felt weird. His eyes glanced over Gale’s shoulder to where Ingrid laid. He nodded towards her. “I suggest you figure out a solution or the source of the problem.” The rest turned to where Astarion was looking to see Ingrid with her head turned, staring at them. She was straining to focus, but she was looking in the right direction.

Mintly was the first to move. Dashing towards her friend lying on the ground.“Griddy! You’re awak-- NO. Stay lying down you’ll get sick.” She held her shoulders down onto the ground though Ingrid wasn’t fighting it.

Gale was about to make his way over as well until Astarion spoke. “Wyll, if this is a warlock issue you might need to be the one to help figure it out.”

“Uhh… right,” Wyll responded, confused at the gesture. Instead of arguing he made his way over to Mintly and Ingrid. 

Gale shot Astarion an angry look, only for it to make him laugh. “Sad you can’t go play hero this time?” Astarion asked with a shit eating grin. “Better luck next time.” With a curt wave Astarion made his way into the forest -- not to feed, but to make sure he was out of range if Gale decided to retaliate. 

Gale felt the anger boil inside him. Is this how Ingrid felt every day towards him? He was beginning to sympathize with her more and more. His chest began to constrict. He could feel tentacle-like tendrils tightening around his heart.  _ Not good. Not good at all _ . Immense anger was the one thing that expedited his… condition. He didn’t want to drag the others in, especially not Ingrid, but he couldn’t go alone. 

Shadowheart was sitting by the campfire removing the breakfast she made for the camp onto the plates that they had purchased a few days prior. She had just covered the food to prevent bugs, and Scratch, from getting into them when Gale approached her. “Do you still want to explore those ruins?”

* * *

“So...You’re thinking my  _ patron _ casted the spell?” Ingrid spoke, the words confusing her just saying them aloud. Mintly and Wyll had helped her sit up and drink a minor potion that Gale had made, and told her about the hypothesis that Wyll had came up with. They didn’t dare to address her ability to fall asleep, but they wanted to at least comfort her about the possibility of the shatter spell not being caused by Ingrid directly. However, they knew that was something that they had to address eventually. 

Wyll nodded. “Yes. It’s not that it can’t happen, but patron/vassal is extremely rare and that might be the case with you. They pulled you out of your… sleep.”

“Is it really?” Ingrid gave him a confused look, not really believing what she had just heard. 

“Yes really. I mean, I’ve me--,” he cut himself short, almost as if he was forced to. He coughed, clearing his throat, and then continued. “Wait. Ingrid, have you  _ met _ your patron before?”

“Yes. Many times. She was always with me when I was a kid, though she stopped visiting once I reached the World Above.”

“How much danger could a small drow like you get in as a kid?”

“Nothing life threatening. She was just always around. Never in a physical body, but she floated around me as an orb. She’s the one who taught me magic.”

Wyll, who was crouching beside Ingrid, fell onto his bottom laughing in complete shock. “Ingrid, do you understand how amazing that is? Warlocks rarely meet their patrons in person and yours just stayed with you, teaching you.” He looked at her eagerly as if wanting Ingrid to continue talking about Mystra. 

“Let’s not overwhelm her again, Wyll,” Mintly cautioned and turned towards Ingrid. “We still need to confirm if it was her patron or a self-defense thing. Is there any indicator of your patron using her powers? I don’t want you to think about last night, but do you think you could remember what you tasted or smelled? Powerful magic can have a taste or smell sometimes.”

“It would be towards the end of the dream,” Wyll added. “So you don’t have to remember it all.” 

Ingrid nodded and began to recall the last bits of her dream. With the instructions from Mintly to focus on a taste or smell, it did not take that long.

“Well,” Ingrid began slowly. “The last thing I remember before I woke up was the smell of rosewater. I’ve never smelled that when I casted a spell. Could that be something?”

“I think it might be,” Wyll grinned. “While we don’t have the option to fully test that theory, it’s what we have to work with and it’s the most logical one. Your patron really saved your life this time, Ingrid.”


	6. A Hiccup

The following days passed without another outburst from Ingrid, though the rest of the camp walked on eggshells around her for a while. When word got to Lae’zel about the nightmare, she was convinced it was time to kill her as the tadpole had “gotten too strong for her to withstand”. It was Shadowheart of all people who convinced the Githyanki to drop her weapon before she charged at Ingrid, who, at the time, was seemingly unaware and was busy patching a hole in Mintly’s robe. There was an unspoken agreement amongst them all to  _ not _ bring this up to her any more than they already had because, according to Mintly, Ingrid was still feeling guilty of causing her companions to experience the whole ordeal. Though Ingrid’s nightmare caused some tension, anger arose later in the day when the group met with Zevlor in the Grove. 

“What do you  _ mean _ it isn’t safe for the tieflings to leave?” Astarion seethed, slamming his fist into the table that separated him and Zevlor and the old table groaned under the pressure. “The entire reason we wiped out an entire  _ fucking _ goblin camp was to make sure you guys had a way to the city.” 

“I-I know. That’s what we had initially agreed on,” Zevlor stammered. His hands were visibly shaking as he tried to calm down Astarion. “However, Halsin said the road was still too dangerous for us to travel.”

“And where is Halsin now?” Lae’zel demanded. 

“I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t  _ know _ ?”

Zevlor glanced around the party nervously, hoping that one of the others would take up the questioning. With Astarion and Lae’zel asking the questions it was more of an interrogation, and Zevlor could only handle so much before he caved. “I don't know where he had gone off to. He came back after you rescued him from the goblin camp, sent out some scouts, and when they didn’t return in a few days he took off after them… and it’s been a day or two since he left.”

The party stood there stunned. The Druid leader that they risked their lives to save was missing  _ again _ . No one was going to go after him a second time, not even Ingrid and Mintly. 

“You’re joking, right?” Gale asked, breaking the silence. 

An exasperated sigh escaped from Zevlor. He was at his wits end, and he looked as though he were about to cry. He covered his face with his hands and was about to speak before Rath walked up to the party. 

“Please, friends. Zevlor speaks the truth,” He began. “Halsin is not here, but he does not rescuing. His messenger hawk has returned to us and has told us that he is just preoccupied at the moment. He will be returning home within the week or so.”

Though he was considered one of the more “laid-back” members of the party, visible anger came across Gale’s face. “We don’t have a week,” he snapped. “We need a healer.  _ NOW _ .” Ingrid and Mintly casted quick, bemused glances at each other. Both equally surprised at Gale’s outburst. 

“As for your… predicament, Halsin did send word of a witch that lived around the Blighted Village who might be able to help you,” Rath continued, unfazed by Gale’s outburst. “There are only a few options in which you have. Stay here and wait for Halsin, or try another proclaimed healer… or you can go to Halsin again and aid him. Your choice.” Before anyone could respond, Rath began his return down to the Grove and ushered Zevlor to do the same. Leaving the party to face yet another obstacle in their path. 

“I can’t believe we have to go to that awful goblin village  _ again _ ,” Shadowheart complained. “I have already upset my goddess enough going there once, I cannot do it again.” 

“What other choice do we have?” Wyll asked. He rubbed his temples visibly frustrated witht he circumstances. “We’re running out of options and time.”

“The teiflings should have just taken their chances and went. The road was clear when we left.”

“If the roads are still dangerous as Halsin says they are, then they would have died.”

“And? That’s not my problem.”

“HEY,” Mintly yelled. The nearby tieflings looked in their direction with confusion. Mintly locked eyes with Shadowheart, anger burning in her eyes and venom in her voice. “They are  _ people _ . They are  _ my _ people. If we were told to fight off an entire village of goblins again to make sure that they can get to safety, I would do it one hundred times. You wouldn’t do the same for yours?”

“My people know how to fend for themselves and don’t rely on the generosity of others,” Shadowheart waved her off. “If you want to go visit the witch, and most likely meet Halsin to protect the weaklings, be my guest. I will not have any part of this.” She walked between Ingrid and Mintly back in the direction of the camp, purposely shouldering Mintly as hard as she could with her armor. 

Mintly exhaled through her nose fiercely. She turned to go after Shadowheart, but a hand tightly gripped her arm. Mintly turned her head to see Ingrid holding her arm. “Mint, let her go. You know she’s just trying to get a rise out of you. Let's go see what the witch can do for us.” 

“Fine. Let’s go,” Mintly said shortly, ripping her arm out of Ingrid’s grasp. The hurt in Ingrid’s eyes made her regret being so rude. 

“With how you two act we will surely be fighting to clear the road, and I will not risk my life for another tiefling. I am staying,” Lae’zel said bluntly, following Shadowheart’s lead and made her way back to camp. 

“I guess I should mention I, too, and not going,” Wyll said sheepishly. “Not because I don’t want to, but I want to make sure the tieflings have everything they need for when they eventually embark on their journey to Baldur’s Gate.” He walked towards the tieflings who were attempting to load a carriage with a large crate. The four remaining members of the party stared at one another. Not the group that they had imagined, but it was what they had to work with.

“Why am I not surprised that it's the four of us yet again,” Astarion said with an annoyed edge to his voice. “It seems as though our fellow compatriots have little faith in this witch.”

“No one would be upset if you decided to stay at the camp, too,” Ingrid curtly said. 

Astarion sneered. “And miss out on bringing you more joy and excitement?  _ Never _ .” His twisted grin made Ingrid’s blood boil. She would never get away from him when his sole purpose is to be the immovable thorn in her side. 

“Alright,” Gale butted in before Ingrid or Astarion had the chance to argue more. “Why don’t we head back to camp and come up with a plan. It’s far too late in the evening to cover a decent amount of ground. Plus, we are going to need  _ supplies _ .” The emphasis was Ingrid’s clue to move. She grabbed Mintly’s arm, no longer upset about her rudeness prior. The two made their way down into the cavern of the camp to purchase supplies needed for their next adventure, and to prevent bloodshed from happening again. 

“And you,” Gale pointed at Astarion “You need to get your strength up. Do whatever you need to. We’ll need you strong and on as best of a behavior as you can muster. So find whatever you need tonight to do just that.” Astarion bowed dramatically and made his way down the path to their camp, preparing for his hunt later that night. 

Gale rubbed his face with his hands. Another healer that is said to be able to help them with their tadpole issue. Another chance for Ingrid and Mintly to get into more trouble. He would let the latter happen. No matter how much they begged, they were not going to help Halsin after they met the witch. He would take care of it and the teiflings would be on their way before they got back to the Grove. 

* * *

The tension from earlier in the day dissipated as the evening fell over the camp. Despite the protests from Astarion, the rest of the group agreed that if this witch turned out to be legit, one of them would come running back to camp to fetch the rest. 

The four who would embark on this quest were standing around Astarion’s tent after their group meeting. “Why should they get rewarded when we do all the work?” He asked bitterly. The rest had either gone to start with dinner, or out to hunt for the remainder of the night.

“I know it doesn’t seem fair, but we have to check this out. What if this is legit and we missed out because we didn’t like it being unfair?” Gale asked. 

“And if it’s not?”

“Well, we’ll just add it to our growing list of healers that turned out to be frauds.” 

Astarion scoffed and rolled his eyes. Every failed healer only caused his irritability to strengthen. Eventually, he might just screw it and become a mindflayer. 

“They do feed us,” Ingrid added quietly, kicking a random rock in front of her.

“Oh that’s  _ lovely, _ dear. I hope their food has tasted wonderful,” he spat back. His hands twitched with anger that had yet to fully cover his face. 

“That sounds like a personal problem,  _ dear _ ,” Ingrid sneered, matching his condescending tone. “I do hope you get that figured out one day.”

There was barely a full beat before Astarion lunged and Ingrid followed suit. Both were quick and nimble, but Gale and Mintly were anticipating their movements and were able to get between them and use their bodies to block. Ingrid groaned with frustration as she was held back by Gale. Astarion, who was held back by Mintly, continued to glare as he was able to see over her head. 

“Ingrid, there’s no benefit of stooping to his level. It gets you nowhere,” Gale scolded. “Besides, Mintly and I can’t do this alone so we need you two with us.  _ Please _ , try to get along. Don’t even talk to him.” He gently turned her to face the campfire that was starting to glow brighter. Wyll had just returned from collecting food for dinner, unaware of the brawl that was about to happen just moments prior. With a hand placed on her shoulder Gale began to walk the two of them over the Wyll, casted a glance back to Mintly, who had just shoved Astarion to the direction of the forest and was turning to face him. He gave her a sympathetic nod, both of them had temperamental children to wrangle. 

_ ‘We need to figure out how to get these two to get along,’ _ Mintly’s voice said in his head.  _ ‘Or else it’s going to end badly for everyone.’ _

_ ‘Unfortunately, I can’t seem to figure out a proper solution,’ _ Gale responded.

* * *

The rest of the evening went by without a problem. Ingrid and Wyll spent most of the time making dinner for the group and chatting about their training, Shadowheart sitting nearby and joining in here and there. Astarion and Lae’zel left to hunt shortly after the  _ incident _ . While Mintly and Gale finally sit down together to sort through their heaping piles of scrolls collected through their journey. It was strange how the daytime could be so stressful and enraging, but the night brought peace. 

Occasionally Gale would sneak glanced over in Ingrid’s direction. Her face was glowing in the light of the fire as she laughed with Wyll and Shadowheart about a story that he could not hear. It eased his worry seeing that most of the group were able to get along with her. He knew that she was headstrong and determined, especially when it came to helping others, and that was something that annoyed the others. They didn’t understand why she was still looking out for people who didn’t even know her when she was perhaps days away from death herself. Gale understood her need to put others first… or, he hoped his presumption was correct. What he assumed was that Ingrid was either avoiding her own personal demons so she threw herself to the aid of others, or, she truly just wants to help people whenever she can. Who knows where the group may be now if she and Mintly didn’t run up a cliff and accidentally throw themselves into a goblin fight? However, she was  _ slowly _ learning not to rush head first into things. Gale was surprised she didn’t immediately rush to Halsin’s aid again even though he knew she wanted to. 

Gale turned his attention back to the scrolls he and Mintly were currently resealing and retying, making sure that they both left with the scrolls they started with. Out of the many they acquired, they were hoping to sell the few duplicates they had to Arron in the Grove the next day. “I don’t think we should try to get those two to behave,” Mintly said after a while, referring to Astarion and Ingrid. She didn’t look to meet Gale’s surprised face. In fact she began to work a bit harder to distract herself so she wouldn’t look up. 

“Why on earth would you say that? They would have killed each other if we didn’t step in.”   
  
“I know, and I think that’s why we should just let them continue.” She finished tying the last scroll and placed it in her bag. “I don’t think they really would do great harm to one another. It’s a scare tactic that they both use. They both know that the other is valuable to the quest at hand, so why would they compromise it by murdering the other?” 

Mintly had a point. It was a scary idea to just let them bicker and potentially fight, but they couldn’t keep them separated when they were crucial for what's about to come. “I see as though I don’t have any other choice,” Gale reluctantly agreed. “You know those two better than the rest of us. So we best hope that your call was the correct one.”

“I know it is,” Mintly replied confidently. She stood up and brushed the dirt off of her robe and adjusted the strap of her bag. When she took a look over at the group by the fire a smirk came across her face. “You might want to get over there before Wyll or Shadowheart win her over. They’re getting pretty chummy.” Gale felt the tips of his ears go red. Of course Mintly knew there was something going on between them, or at least had an idea. Ingrid and Mintly were inseparable after all. Mintly pushed Gale in the direction of the campfire with a light shove and began her way down the path that sat between Gale’s and Astarion’s tents. 

* * *

“Ingrid! Hey Ingrid!” A familiar voice called out to her. Looking up from the cup of soup in her hands, Ingrid saw Mintly racing towards her from a distance — hold a black piece of fabric above her head. 

“What do you want?” Ingrid called back to her. She took a sip of her soup, letting the warmth of the broth warm her up during this chilly evening. 

Not breaking pace, and almost looking as though she was gaining speed, Mintly kept heading directly towards her. 

“ **TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF!** ” She waved the fabric in her hand vigorously. 

The demand startled her. Causing the soup in her mouth to get caught and go down her throat wrong and sent her into a coughing fit.  **_“WHAT?”_ **

Ingrid quickly glanced around the campfire, wondering if they heard the same thing they did. Wyll and Shadowheart’s expression showed confusion while Gale looked somewhat bemused. 

_ What a perv,  _ Ingrid thought. She stood up to meet Mintly who was nearing the fire in hopes to calm her down, but instead of stopping… Mintly pounced. 

Unable to prepare for the impact, Mintly threw herself at the drow and sent them both to the ground. Mintly straddled Ingrid and flashed the fabric in her face. From what she could tell it was a shirt. 

“Take your shirt off and try this on!” Mintly said again. Placing the fabric carefully in her mouth and attempted to undo the buckles on Ingrid's shirt. “It’ll look cute.”

Ingrid might have had quick hands, but Mintly was faster. She was able to undo the lower buckle before Ingrid grabbed one of her wrists. She hoped the others would help her, but knowing them they weren’t going to intervene unless there was something in it for them. The two struggled as Mintly’s fast hands took jabs at the top buckle — Ingrid trying to block. 

She felt the top buckle come undone and felt the middle buckle bear all of the strain. This damn tiefling was going to make her flash the entire camp her breasts. This damn tiefling was going to pay. 

By some sheer luck Ingrid was able to surprise Mintly and throw her to the side. She then got on top of her, back facing the rest of the camp, and held down her shoulders. Her eyes shone of anger and embarrassment as Mintly began to laugh. 

“Griddy...you should see the look.. on your face!” She said between fits of laughter. 

“You should see yours when I’m done beating you up.” Ingrid seethed. This caused Mintly to laugh harder. “If you wanted me to try a shirt on just let me take it to my tent.” 

Realization came over Mintlys face. “Oh.. you know you’re onto something.” The thought never occurred to her. “Okay let’s go back to your tent and try this on.” 

Ingrid felt herself relaxed and removed her hands from Mintly’s shoulders. She helped her up snd dusted herself off. As she was about to start buckling her shirt back up, Mintly quickly undid the last one and booked it past her in the direction of Ingrid’s tent. Ingrid stood in shock for a second as to what just happened. Only realizing that her shirt was open from the coldness on her exposed breasts. She heard voices from the direction she was facing — bickering and arguing. Lae’zel and Astarion were returning from their hunting trip. No way in hell were she going to give those two anymore ammunition to bully her. 

Throwing her arms over her breasts, Ingrid quickly turned around and sprinted back to her tent. Her face was a dark shade of purple — a color that happens when she’s embarrassed or angry. She was both. “ **_MINTLY IM GOING TO KILL YOU.”_ ** She yelled as she ran. 

Ingrid could hear the laughter of the companions at the campfire as she ran by. She didn’t care about Wyll or Shadowheart, but she would be having a...not so pleasant conversation with Gale later. 

* * *

Mintly was the first one to appear from Ingrid’s tent bearing a triumphant grin across her face. The eyes of the rest of the camp were all on her and Ingrid, who was still hiding in the safety of her tent. She turned and faced the tent, messing with the straps that held it shut. Opening it to an Ingrid cowering in a corner glaring at the tiefling. “Come  _ on _ Ingrid. You look great,” Mintly grunted as she struggled to pull Ingrid from her corner. 

“I feel exposed, Mint,” Ingrid said, straining to prevent Mintly from moving her from her spot. Unfortunately, Ingrid lost yet another battle against the tiefling. Her foot has slipped and Mintly seized the opportunity to yank her out of the tent, both stumbling towards the fire. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Your boobs look great in that shirt, Griddy,” Minty complemented loud enough for the others to hear. Mintly leaned close into Ingrid’s ear and whispered. “Plus, it’ll piss off Astarion. It’s his shirt.” The look of terror that was on Ingrid’s face was replaced with a wicked smile.  _ Oh man was Mintly an evil genius.  _ Ingrid was ready to ruin. His. Night. 

As they approached the campfire Ingrid made sure to keep an eye on Astarion and his reaction. He wasn’t an idiot. He would immediately recognize one of his own shirts. She just wondered how long it was going to take him to notice. However, she wouldn’t have to wait as long as she initially thought. 

“What the  _ hell  _ is she doing wearing that,” Astarion fumed. Ingrid bit her lips to prevent herself from laughing at the disgusted look he was giving her. 

Mintly took a step forward to stand between Ingrid and Astarion. “I gave it to her.”

“You dirty little thief. Who gave you the right?” he spat back. 

“No one. It was still hanging out to dry three days later and no one claimed it and now here we are,” she shrugged. “Plus, it looks better on Ingrid anyway. She fills it out better.”

She wasn’t wrong. Astarion had worn the shirt once and it fit awkwardly along his mascuilne shoulders, almost a bit too short and cut weird. On Ingrid the soft silk laid nicely over her shoulders and was tailored at the waist and fit her perfectly. Her one gripe was that the chest was too…  _ revealing _ . Most of the buttons closed, but there was still enough of her breasts showing to garner attention. Something that she was actively avoiding. Apparently being told you don’t look nice in a shirt was enough to piss off the vampire that he huffed and sulked back to his tent without even bothering to argue with Mintly.

“I think you made him mad, Mint,” Ingrid whispered. 

“He’ll get over it eventually.” How that woman became so quickly unphased by Astarion was impressive. She would have to ask Mintly how she does it so Ingrid wouldn’t have to almost fight him again. It wasn’t until she heard Mintly snapping her fingers that Ingrid realized that she was lost in her own world again. 

“ _ Hey _ ,” Mintly snapped her fingers. “Her eyes are up there you two.” 

Ingrid focused her attention to who she was yelling at only to see both Wyll and Gale looking sheepishly at the ground. Anger rose inside Ingrid again when she and Gale made eye contact. He knew he was in trouble. The camp knew he was in trouble. 

“Ooh better get going, Gale. She looks really pissed off at you,” Mintly teased. She began herding the rest of the camp back to their respective tents. Gale watched her go, hoping she would turn back around and save him, but it seems she was doing everything but. He watched her make her way over to Astarion’s tent, who was just about to leave it when he saw her make her way over, and then shut himself back in. Turning back to Ingrid, she was still glaring at him. Her arms were crossed and she was not moving; she was waiting for him to come to her. He cautiously made his way over to Ingrid, as if she were going to lash out if he got too close. She opened her mouth to begin yelling, but Gale was quicker.

“Know that you’re mad, and you have every right to be. I shouldn’t have just sat there and watch Mintly disrobe you in front of the entire camp. If it were me I would be just as furious.” He paused, waiting to see if she would reply. When she didn’t he continued. “Let me make it up to you in a way that I think you’ll like.”

He took her hand from her crossed arms and led her back to the beach where they watched the stars just a week prior.


	7. Moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had versions of this scene playing in my head since I experienced it in the game. I figured the Weave scene in the game could use some more ~~~flavor~~~. This scene is kind of why I wanted to write an entire fic hahah.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading it! It was SO much fun to write!!

Like their first meeting on the beach, the moon above casted its light onto the waters -- the waves dancing in the light. Fireflies floated around slightly above the water and around Gale and Ingrid, avoiding them in a way. The stars above seemed to be shining brighter than before. They were twinkling and shining in a way that Ingrid had not yet seen in her years in the World Above. It was magical. 

The smell of rain hung in the air, though there was not a cloud in the sky. Gale hoped that any impending rain would hold off for just a few more hours as this was one of the last full moons of the warmer months -- and it finally happened on a clear night. 

Gale looked over to Ingrid to find her completely enamoured with the stars above her. The ethereal glow that was around her was back once again, and it seemed to be glowing brighter -- like the stars above her. His heart swelled. She looked to the glowing of the stars for hope and good luck, and if he were honest, Gale looked to Ingrid for the same things.  _ His star _ .

A bright light caught his peripheral and he turned to see a shooting star go across the sky, leaving a brief twinkling trail behind it. Gale felt a tight grip on his arm, returning his gaze back to Ingrid, who was gripping his arm tightly with an awestruck look across her face. 

“ _GALE._ Did you **_see_** that?!” She cried, pointing up to where the star had appeared. “A shooting star. A _real_ shooting star!”

“You better be quick and make a wish on it before it’s too late!”

Her eyes widened. “Oh shit. You’re right.” She let go of his arm and clasped her hands together and closed her eyes tightly. Gale didn’t necessarily believe in wishing on stars, but he knew how much they meant to her and he wasn’t going to ruin it. To humor himself, and her if she asked, he closed his eyes and thought of a little wish himself. 

He opened his eyes to Ingrid beaming at him. The stars were reflecting in her eyes and twinkling almost as bright. He returned a smile back. “Soooooo….,” she began, rocking on her heels. “What did you want to show me.” Any anger she felt towards him seemed to have dissipated. 

_ Oh shit. _ The realization set in. Gale was so caught up in the stars, in  _ her _ , that he forgot the main reason he took her away from camp. He tucked his hair behind his ear, nervous and slightly embarrassed for getting off track. “Right, right,” he patted his empty pockets to stall for time so he could collect his thoughts. 

Ingrid gave him a bemused glance and chuckled at the awkwardness he was creating for himself. “Don’t stress yourself out too much. We have time.” She reached for his hand and gave it a quick, comforting squeeze. “Breathe and collect your thoughts.”

Gale took a deep breath to compose himself. He stuck out his hand to form a glittering ball of pure light in his hand. “We both know the importance of magic and it’s importance, especially for the two of us. It’s alive and it’s beautiful. Having been around magic most of my life, I have been able to experience the true embrace of magic. The tingling feeling felt on the tips of your fingers when you cast a spell is but a glimpse of the true feeling of magic.” 

The ball in his hand turned into a small flame, casting an orange blow onto both of them. He looked up from his hand to see Ingrid looking intently to him, hanging onto every word he was saying. “This feeling can be felt when you’re embraced into the strands of the Weave. It’s like music, poetry, and beauty combined into one and felt through the senses,” he continued. “I can show you if you would like.” 

Awe came over Ingrid’s face. “Really? You would do that?” She stepped closer to him and lightly gripped the sleeve of his robe as if he was going to forget to take her somewhere. 

“Well of course. That’s what I wanted to show you,” Gale smiled. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it. It can be quite overwhelming if you’re unprepared for it.”

Her eyes stared at him eagerly and gripped his sleeve tighter. “Please. What do we have to do.”

* * *

Calling forth the Weave was a bit of a tricky task, especially for those whose primary focus was not magic. Ingrid used magic, but to the extent of Mintly and Gale? Never. The Weave could only be called forth for the person performing the set of steps, so Ingrid had to learn quickly if she wanted to do this on her own in the future. 

The first step was to call forth any form of minor magic and move your hands and arms in a fluid motion. Gale did this step slowly for Ingrid, but despite how many times she mimicked him, she was still having issues. There was a small movement that was important in casting, but she kept performing it too late or not doing it at all. Gale stood behind her and encased her in what was almost a hug, but instead gently grabbed her hands and went through the motions with her. 

This was the closest that the two had ever been. Ingrid could feel the warmth of Gale’s breath on her neck and ear as he guided her arms and explained the reasons why she might have missed the spell the first time and how to correct them. He was gentle in all sense of the word. His hands lightly held her wrists as he moved them in the proper formation and his voice was soft and kind, even when she kept messing up. Though she could barely hear his voice even though he was talking right next to her because her heart was pounding so loud. She also prayed to the gods that he couldn’t feel her pulse in any way. 

“I think the issue is when you move from this pose,” he began, moving their arms wide. “To this one.” He brought her right down and around in front of her as he moved her left diagonally over top of it. “The left arm is fine, but the right seems a bit too stiff. Try thinking of it making a backwards  _ ‘C’ _ as you bring it around in front of you,” he continued. 

They repeated the motion again, moving slowly during the  _ ‘C’ _ section, and finishing the move. Ingrid looked over her shoulder at him, but stopped suddenly when she noticed that his face was mere inches from her. “Isn’t there, uh… footwork during this, too?” She said, surprised that it came out as smoothly as it did. 

There was a brief moment of pause before Gale registered her question inside of his head. “Right, right,” he said quickly, slightly embarrassed that he was staring at her a bit too long. “As you make the  _ ‘C’ _ you gently glide your foot back behind you.” Ingrid’s thigh felt on fire where Gale lightly touched it to show her the proper footing. 

Ingrid got back in the previous position. “Like this?” She asked, performing the hand motion and footwork. Unfortunately, as she stepped backwards, her heel ended up digging into Gale’s foot. She groaned and threw her head back in frustration, forgetting Gale’s presence for a brief moment. It wasn’t until her head hit his shoulder that she remembered he was there, and she froze. 

She could feel his smile on her neck and it caused her heart to jump up into her throat. “Exactly like that, but less foot stomping,” he chuckled, breath tickling her neck. “I think you have the movements down, so why don’t you try it now?”

Gale let go of her arms and back away, gesturing to Ingrid to try again. She took a deep breath -- to calm her heart rate and her nerves. Ingrid took the movements slow, making sure she was moving the correct way and hitting the one move that she kept missing. A bright glow of purple flashed around her -- a sign that she did it. She turned to Gale, who was smiling proudly at her. She felt fluttering in her stomach. With a confident nod, she was ready for the next step. 

The next step was to repeat an incantation. With Gale not as close to her, she was able to listen to what he was saying and not her own heart beating in her ears. Ingrid repeated the incantation down to the accent and in response the same glow of purple flashed again and hung just for a bit longer than the first step. A faint, familiar scent of rosewater hung in the air. It took Ingrid by surprise, but she didn’t let her face show it.

“We’re almost done,” Gale said excitedly. “You can taste the Weave can’t you? It’s sweet; something that can’t even be described. Anyways, this next step is the easiest. Picture  _ harmony _ . Weird, I know, but picture it in the truest form you can.” Gale closed his eyes and Ingrid followed suit. 

Harmony? Did Ingrid have a harmonious moment in her life? She needed to think, really think, of one  _ fast _ . She did not want to think of her childhood for fear that it would ruin the magic that she created, and she did  _ not  _ want to redo the movement again. Pondering it for a moment, it hit her. Now. Right here. Right now. Not just with Gale, but learning. The unexpected moment of learning was harmonious to her. She was the happiest and the most peaceful when she was learning, despite the threat of her world crumbling before her outside of this growing bubble of weave. 

Ingrid opened her eyes to find herself surrounded in a glowing aura of light. It swirled around her, Gale, and between them. It felt like magic. It felt  _ alive _ . The scent of rosewater was stronger now and the taste of the Weave stronger as well. A familiar presence embraced her like a hug and her worries for the moment disappeared -- peace. 

“You did it,” Gale said, pulling her out of her trance. “How does it feel?” 

“Magical,” she breathed and turned to face him. He gave a confused look at her and touched his neck. Returning an equally confused look she mimicked him. “Everything okay, Gale?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, stepping towards her. She could barely feel his fingers as he traced something on her neck. “Have you always had a tattoo there?”

“No? I don’t have a tattoo.”

Instead of responding, Gale conjured a mirror image of Ingrid. In the duplicate she could clearly see the glow of a white tattoo on the base of her neck. “Interesting,” Gale murmured as he leaned in closer to Ingrid’s neck to view the tattoo. The closeness made Ingrid’s heart flutter again, causing Gale to jump slightly and step back. They both forgot in the moment that the Weave sensed the change in emotions, so the change took them both by surprise. “I’m so sorry. I got way too close so suddenly.”

“It’s fine, really,” Ingrid laughed and the Weave changed with them. They both felt the relief that Gale expressed. 

“I always forget that the Weave  _ really _ connects those who are wrapped in it,” Gale said, his ears turning slightly red. 

Before Ingrid could respond the familiar presence she felt earlier became overwhelming. The Weave became thicker, the trees and stars outside of their bubble went out of sight. Gale fidgeted in place, looking around him. “It seems we might be having a...visitor,” he said quietly. Ingrid could feel the nerves in him, but the joy of realization began to overpower it. She could feel Gale’s confused stare on her, however his attention soon became focused on the form appearing before them. 

“It’s--.”

“Mystra,” Ingrid finished. The joy she felt caused tears to flow down her cheeks. The Weave around them pulsated at the sudden burst of emotion. In front of them stood a woman draped in ivory silk; her long, white hair tucked back, pinned with the thorns of the roses that decorated her hair. Her arms were outstretched, reaching to embrace the drow. Ingrid found herself moving forward though she couldn’t tell if that was her doing or the Weave pulling her in. The smell of rosewater filled all of her senses as Ingrid began to cry much harder. Enveloping Ingrid into her, the Weave changed. 

The entirety of the Weave itself formed into a memory, or rather a series of memories, which Gale immediately identified were Ingrid’s. He saw a small Ingrid balancing on a log practicing her fighting and he heard the laughter of both of them. The next memory was an older Ingrid lying on the ground, blood spilling from her nose and with tears in her eyes, cradling her arm. He could see that she was not in the Underdark anymore and noticed the shadow of an unknown person covering her body. 

* * *

_ ‘Stay back!’ she cried. Ingrid picked up the closest rock to her and threw it at who was towering over her. It missed them completely as she was using her non-dominant hand. The anger in her eyes was replaced by fear as the body began to move towards her. She scrambled backwards, stopping when her arm slipped over the cliff she was next to.  _

_ The tears in her eyes fell at that point. She was doomed. She looked frantically around here, for Mystra, but she wasn’t there. Ingrid knew that this was going to happen. She was going to do something stupid and it was going to kill her. She got way too over her head and now she was staring down a monster ready to eat her. The only thing she was proud of at the moment was the fact that she was able to land a few good hits on it with the mace she made herself.  _ No _ , she thought to herself.  _ This is  **not** how I’m going to die. Mystra would be so disappointed _.  _

_ Before she could plan her next attack, the monster lunged. Instinctively, Ingrid raised her hand out in front of her. A last-ditch effort. Her fingertips began to tingle as if they were being shocked by electricity. Peeking with one eye, she saw light blue bolts of energy rushing from her fingertips and saw it was encasing the creature, shocking it in the process. The beast collapsed to the ground in front of her, dead.  _

_ The fear in her was replaced with joy. She did it. She really did it. Her first spell. Ingrid looked around her for the orbs of Mystra. “ _ Mystra! Mystra did you see that?! I fucking did it! I finally casted Eldritch Blast! _ ” Her shoulders slumped in defeat when she realized Mystra wasn’t with her. Mystra told ingrid that she had to leave, but she assumed she’d be back like all the other times. She always came back… until she didn’t.  _

_ Ingrid carefully made her way away from the edge, cradling her arm close and got up. _

* * *

The scene ended with Ingrid walking in an unknown direction, most likely searching for a healer of some sorts for her arm. Gale rubbed his eyes, not realizing he hadn’t blinked in a very long time. He looked back in the direction of Ingrid and Mystra, who had her hands placed upon Ingrid’s shoulders. 

“I am so proud of you, Ingrid,” She said, wiping a tear from the drow’s face. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be with these last few years. The Weave has finally calmed down from its anger.” Ingrid did not see the look that Mystra gave Gale when she finished her sentence, but she could feel the slight change in the emotions from him. 

“It’s okay,” Ingrid replied with a hoarse voice, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’m just glad I finally got to see you after, what? How many years?” 

“Too many,” Mystra chuckled. “But you seem to not need me anymore. You’ve handled yourself and learned on your own.” 

“What?” Ingrid’s voice cracked. Fresh tears formed in her eyes. “I finally see you after all these years and now you leave?” Mystra pulled Ingrid into another embraced, a sob rippling through her. 

“That’s not what I said,” Mystra held Ingrid out at arms length. “You don’t  _ need _ my teachings anymore, but I will not leave you again.” Mystra placed a finger on the glowing tattoo on Ingrid’s neck. The tattoo flashed brightly and quickly dimmed as Mystra moved her hands away. “However, I must return deeper into the Weave now. Being away too long can cause hiccups in the magic. Seek me out when you need advice. I will be here. You know how to surround yourself with the Weave so use it wisely.” 

Ingrid turned back towards Gale with a large smile on her face. The Weave sensed the sudden burst of adoration expelled from Gale when she looked at him, even if Ingrid was still encased in her bubble of joy. Mystra, however, felt the change tightened her focus. “Watch over her, Gale.” Mystra faded back into the weave, leaving Ingrid standing in the same spot still facing Gale, still crying. 

The two began walking towards each other until they met in the middle. Gale cupped her face in his hands, wiping the tears away as they fell. They stood in silence and the Weave began to circle the emotions currently being displayed between the two of them. Eventually, Ingrid’s sobs turned into hiccups. 

“Thank you,” she breathed quietly. “Thank you for showing me the Weave. This has been the best day of my life.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me Mystra was your patron?” He asked. 

“I was told to keep it a secret for so long underground that it followed me up here,” Ingrid chuckled, stepping back to wipe the remaining tears from her eyes. “I promise I won’t do that again. No more secrets.” 

The intimacy of the Weave encases them as they focus on one another. Their thoughts become deeply intertwined with one another. Suddenly, Ingrid’s is experiencing a memory. She’s looking at herself from Gale’s perspective. She’s hunched over a table in the library in the Emerald Grove talking about the cartography skills she's learned in her travels. The next memory is that same night, but on the beach. Ingrid was watching herself point out various stars and constellations, not following her fingers when they point to the sky. She felt her heart skip, no, she felt Gale’s heart skip in the memory. Next, Ingrid was staring at herself. Her face was flushed from embarrassment from droning on about the stars. The emotions in the memory flowed between the both until the memory faded, leaving them standing in front of one another. 

When her eyes came back into focus she saw Gale looking at her with an expression she couldn’t recognize. A picture flashed before her eyes, a picture from Gale, but before she could register what she saw the Weave began to dissipate as smoothly as it manifested. “What did you try to show me?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t respond, but instead closed the gap between them. He gently cupped her face with one of his hands as Ingrid’s heart began to race. Gale looked into her eyes for a moment, silently taking in her face that was once again illuminated by the stars above. He could count every freckle on her face if he wanted to. 

The sounds of the night creatures were the only thing heard -- crickets chirped nearby while the small nocturnal mammals moved around in the bushes. While the world around them kept going, time almost seemed to stop for the two of them. Locked in the intimacy that the Weave created for them. Carefully, Gale lifted Ingrid’s face to meet his and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Bliss escaped between the two of them. Ingrid’s heart pounded harder when she felt the softness of Gale’s lips meet hers. She could taste the spiced wine mixed with the leftover strands of the Weave on his lips and feel the bristle of his beard against her cheeks. The kiss deepened when Ingrid opened her lips slightly and Gale moved his hand from her face to being intertwined in her hair. She pulled him closer with his robes, leaving no space between them. 

Gale was the first one to make the move, and he was the first to pull away. He yearned for more, but it wasn’t the time to indulge in selfish desires. He brushed a loose strand of hair from Ingrid’s face and smiled down at her. “I think I know what you tried to show me,” Ingrid laughed. She wrapped her arms around his waist as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder laughing with her. He placed a kiss on her forehead, taking in the faint smell of rosewater left on her from the Weave. 

“We should get going,” he murmured into her hair. Ingrid sighed. He was right, but she didn’t want to let go. Not yet, but they needed to. Walking the same slightly-worn path, the two made their way back to camp with fingers intertwined and slightly giddy as if they were teenagers once more.


	8. Majesties and Moonbeams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by Illubuu; occurring a the same time as the previous chapter -- Moonlight

Mintly had collected a fair share of books since being thrown from a flaming illithid ship. Back home she had three bookshelves filled to the brim, mainly thick novels that she never seemed to have the time to finish. A lot of those that she'd scavenged were journals and diaries that had been left behind in caves and dungeons, and a few were lengthy tomes on magic or history. Mintly's favorite, however, were the fiction books she stumbled upon in her travels. They gave her the comfort of home and the three Mintly had found had become like treasures.

After Gale and Ingrid had disappeared to no doubt have a pleasant lover's quarrel, Mintly grabbed the novel she was working her way through and scrambled to take a place around the fire again. She hoped, prayed, that after herding everyone to their tents they stayed there. She plopped the heavy book in her lap and flipped it open.

The book had started like a drama, with a young man from the city taking up a job as a carriage driver for a small grocery store after losing his home in a fire. His past was curious - the author had only mentioned the man's father being 'too kind for his own good.' Yet, nearly halfway through the story, the book had taken a sudden shift. The man discovered a body hidden in the back storeroom and met the ghost of the deceased, a girl named Clara. She told him about the long history behind the grocery store owner and how he had-

"Isn't it a little late to be reading?"

Mintly sighed. "No, not really, Astarion," she replied, not looking up. She touched her finger to the spot on the page where she'd stopped. "What are you even doing awake?"

Astarion huffed with a dramatic flair. "Trying to figure out why in the Hells you thought it might be smart to not  _ only _ help yourself to my things, but to then gift them to others."

"So Ingrid is wearing your shirt. I promise she won't stain it with her drow-ness."

“You are  _ well _ aware that is not my point.”

Mintly sighed again, longer this time. She craned her neck upwards. Astarion's face was scrunched in a scowl and, truthfully, she just didn't have the energy to get into it with him. "I'm sorry for taking your things."

Astarion paused. He had clearly been expecting an argument. He crossed his arms with a pout. "I had at least come to expect such things from Ingrid. You, however."

Mintly laughed. "And what have you come to expect from me?" She held up a hand. "No, no, wait. Let me guess. World shattering stupidity... unrivaled idiocy, and... an unbearable knack for getting herself into trouble. Did I get them all?"

"I think you forgot 'unmatched lunacy', darling."

"Oh, don't you start thinking I only act stupid when the moon is out," Mintly replied in a drawl. "Any time of day and any time of night. In fact, I could be acting a fool  _ right now." _ She drew the corners of her mouth up into a smile, though with her mood how it was it probably looked more like a snarl.

Astarion tilted his head, the firelight glinting in his eyes. "I would be inclined to agree with that statement."

"Well, I'm glad we got that out of the way," Mintly said, turning her attention back to her book. Her hand had moved so it took her a moment more to refind her place. She could feel Astarion hovering above her, unmoving. After her third try - and third failure - to read the next sentence, she slammed the book closed. "What, Astarion?"

As usual, the look on his face was not an easy read. His eyebrows were low, his eyes narrowed in thought. "What, indeed."

Mintly shot him an incredulous look. "I'm trying to read and you're hovering."

"Do you have a preferred spot that I stand?"

Mintly scoffed. This was not going to end well regardless of how she played her cards. Shoving herself up off the ground and tucking her book neatly under her arm, Mintly gave Astarion a tight smile. If he wanted a fight he should have caught Ingrid before she left with Gale. She made a grand sweeping gesture towards the fire. "It's all yours."

Astarion laughed softly. "Oh, thank you, your Majesty, for offering me a spot at your table."

"It's not often I let jesters in my court," Mintly replied, "but I'll make an exception this time." She turned to start walking back to her tent, suddenly completely uninterested in reading anymore.

"You know..." Astarion said quickly, "if  _ Her Majesty _ isn't busy, she should join me."

Mintly slowed her walking to a stop, turning halfway to catch Astarion's gaze. His eyes twinkled. She should've just turned back and kept walking. She should have ignored him completely. But of course, with Mintly and her knack for getting in trouble, she didn't. Instead of leaving Astarion alone with his mischief she asked, "Join you?"

Astarion didn't waste a second reeling her in. He started to close the distance between them, his arms moving animatedly as he spoke. "Aren't you just dying to know what Gale and Ingrid are up to? Off on their own on the banks of the river?"

"No," Mintly answered. She saw where this was going and her regret was instantaneous. "I have no desire to see either of them... compromised."

Astarion laughed, wagging his fingers. "Now now, didn't your parents teach you not to lie, darling? You're curious, I can see it in your face. That's why you stopped." He waved his hand towards the river.

"I stopped because you kept talking to me, not because I have any desire to join you in being a Peeping Tom."

"Oh, don't be so  _ crass _ . You know that stuck up wizard isn't going to be giving anything up tonight. I'd be surprised if he gave up anything for free." Astarion had completely closed the distance between them. He held out his hand with a mock little bow. "It's just a little prank, I promise. There's no one else I would ask along but you, Your Majesty."

Mintly's skin covered in goosebumps that she hoped was from the cold. Astarion didn't just  _ do _ little pranks. In fact, most wouldn't even call them pranks at all. And Mintly had lost all semblance of deniability; in telling her his plan, even if she went back to her tent right now, she was still party to whatever Astarion had shoved up his puffy sleeves. She could feel him twisting her around his finger. "What kind of prank?"

Astarion’s smile broadened into a full faced grin. "I thought you'd never ask. Come, darling, and I'll show you."

Mintly had opened her mouth to resist but Astarion grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the river banks. His hands were incredibly cold and she almost gasped as the chill ran up her arm. "Wait, Astarion, I never agreed-" Mintly tried to dig her heels in, but Astarion's pull was  _ strong _ . She was lucky she was able to keep pace without him yanking her completely onto the ground.

He weaved through camp, turning towards the forest and ducking around trees Mintly's eyes barely had a chance to register. She struggled to keep from tripping on the roots and sprigs that grew up from the forest floor.

"How do you-" Mintly ducked her head under another branch. "How do you even know where they are?"

"Gale is not creative," Astarion replied. He started to slow his pace, though still moving with a deliberate purpose in his step. "He comes to this same spot to summon that ghostly lover of his, whoever she is. He'll stare at her for hours. It's almost sad."

"You've been spying on Gale?" Mintly asked. She was surprised, moreso that Astarion would admit to such a thing than at him doing it in the first place.

Astarion groaned. "Not  _ spying _ . It is hardly my fault if Gale chooses the most wide open spots for his lover's meetings."

"His lover, huh?"

"Or his  _ other _ one, I suppose."

Mintly frowned. Ingrid had never mentioned Gale having had a past lover, and Astarion seemed convinced whoever Gale was conjuring out in the woods, it wasn't Ingrid. Something twisted in Mintly's gut - she wondered if she should even bring it up to Ingrid. What would that do but -

Suddenly, Mintly's foot caught on something and she 'oofed', starting to fall forwards. She reached out her one free hand to catch herself when she was jolted back upright. Her shoulder cracked and smarted, Mintly wincing as she regained her bearings. Her hand still grasped by Astarion was being held above her head, straightening her back out like a doll on a string.

Astarion chuckled. "Do try to keep from making too much noise, my dear. We are trying to sneak up on them." He slowly let her arm back down, but didn't release her hand.

Mintly eyed it. "You can let go now."

"Oh, no," he sang, "you aren't getting rid of me that easily." And he started off into the woods again.

Mintly wasn't sure how long they walked. She had lost track of the path a while ago - if there had ever even  _ been _ a path - and was now stuck blindly trusting Astarion's lead. Part of her wondered if this was his prank, to leave her out here in the dark and hope she could find her way back. The idea started to gain traction in her mind until the forest started to thin and began to open up into a clearing. She could see the moonlight streaming in through the canopy, gentle streams of white light against the cool blue of night. The grass was tall, reaching midway up her shins, and rustled in the small breeze. But one thing was missing. "I don't see anyone."

"Oh," Astarion said, plainly. "Hmm."

Mintly pulled her hand free of Astarion's and slowly moved out into the clearing. It was almost perfectly circular. "How the Hells did Gale ever find a place like this?"

"Maybe Gale has a few positive traits," Astarion replied. He was walking into the clearing too, but staying out near the perimeter. 

Mintly let her gaze drift upward. She could see stars through the larger gaps in the leaves. Of course Gale would be the one to find the most romantic place in the entire woods. It would be the perfect place to take Ingrid. She loved the stars. He would - Mintly stopped. She turned to look at Astarion, having to do an entire spin before she found him. He was watching her, his expression curious. "So where's Ingrid? Gale? And what's this prank?"

Astraion didn't reply right away. His red eyes almost glowed in the low light. "Maybe I got the location wrong." He said it lazily, like even he didn't believe what he was saying. Or maybe he got too tired to keep up the act.

Goosebumps flooded across Mintly's skin. She narrowed her eyes. "What are you playing at?"

"Darling," he drawled. He held a hand to his chest. "Do you really think so low of me? That I would play games?"

"We're in the middle of the fucking woods, Astarion. Forgive me if I'm a bit concerned you might decide to bury me in this little oasis of yours." Mintly's voice was steady, but her heart was hammering in her chest.

Astarion strode towards her. "You needn't worry about that. I simply thought a change of scenery, and a bit of privacy, might be necessary."

"Necessary?" Mintly echoed. "Necessary for what?"

"Not a prank, as I'm sure you've already figured out." Astarion was close now, within arm's reach. "Rather, for a conversation. I've come to realize I'm woefully... unprepared for these coming events. Too weak. Tired. And I could fix that but it would require, ah... a certain substance that is not easily acquired."

Mintly laughed, more a sound of frustration than anything. "You're kidding me. You dragged me out into these woods to ask me to steal for you? Are you serious?" She moved closer to him, pointing a finger at his chest. "You want me to stick my neck out for you when you can't even-"

Mintly's voice was cut off as Astarion grabbed ahold of her wrist, moving it out and away from them both. It wasn't a threatening move, and his grip was far more gentle than Mintly thought him capable, but she felt exposed nonetheless. She felt her face flush.

"I'm not asking you to steal anything," Astarion said. 

Mintly swallowed, hard. "Then what?" 

Astarion blinked. He chewed on his next words carefully, the silence hanging between them like a stain. Finally, he lifted his lips just enough to reveal two incredibly sharp fangs that glittered in the moonlight. He let the statement stand before replying, "Blood."

Mintly didn't have the words to reply. His cool skin around her wrist suddenly felt colder. A vampire. How had she never put those pieces together? All the hints, all the little quirks fell neatly into their place within the full picture. She shivered, but didn't pull away. "You didn't... the others, you haven't..."

"No," Astarion answered. "I feed on the animals of the forest. That's how I found this place. I haven't ever drank from any of you. From any person for that matter."

"Why?" The question slipped from Mintly's mouth before she could stop herself. 

An expression of pain flashed across Astarion's face. "I wasn't allowed. And now I simply... don't know how."

The statement was so absurd that Mintly almost laughed. A vampire, not knowing how to drink blood? It sounded like a joke. She stared at him. "Why not just tell me outright? Why all this pretense of pranks and shirts?"

"And let the whole camp know what I am? If I wanted to die I'd just tell Lae'zel I felt a little extra squid-like that day." Astarion held Mintly's gaze. "I understand it is a lot to ask. I don't need much. Just enough to tide me over."

"Tide you over until...?"

Astarion hummed. "Until I am too weak again."

Mintly's breathing had slowed. The breeze was still blowing through the clearing, the moon still streaming in from above, but it all felt different. She couldn't deny Astarion's earnest. It didn't feel like he was lying, at least not about everything. His teeth spoke enough for the truth of his being, but everything else? 

She scanned his face and found him... uncomfortably genuine. She had grown so accustomed to him snapping and jabbing with his words that to hear him speak with such feeling was unnerving. Mintly wiggled her fingers of the hand that Astarion still held. "You're asking to drink my blood."

"I'm asking you to trust me."

Mintly laughed. "You realize how difficult that is, right? Everything considered?"

The hint of a smile played on his lips. "Yes, I do realize. But I'm... I need you to trust me. Even if it is just this once. Please."

Mintly wiggled her fingers again. "I assume this is being kept between us?"

Astarion nodded. "Until absolutely necessary, preferably."

"Alright." Mintly sighed, breathing out as much of her anxiety as she could. Her heart hadn't stopped racing. "How do you want to do this?"

There was a look on Astarion's face that said he didn't think he would get this far. He lowered Mintly's hand, but kept it in his grasp. "You may want to sit down."

The grass was soft and, now that she was amidst it, the leaves danced around Mintly's shoulders. She settled in as Astarion moved about behind her, finally laying his hands on her shoulders. He slipped one to the side of her neck, and the other gently tipped her head to the side. She could feel his breath on her neck as he drew close and she closed her eyes.

The bite was worse than she thought it would be, and her gasp must've been loud enough for Astarion to hear as she could feel him stop for a moment. His teeth looked sharp, but they felt more like two blunt sticks being forced into Mintly's neck. She tried to keep from squirming. She opened her eyes, trying to focus on the leaves of the trees and not Astarion's cool lips and hands at her throat.

Mintly found the pain very quickly faded to a dull ache. It throbbed in time with her heartbeat. She counted to ten. And then twenty. When the moonbeams started to blur, she reached a hand up and patted Astarion lightly on the head. "Hey, times up."

Astarion made a noise of agreement - a sound that tickled - and slowly, tortuously, pulled himself back.

Mintly pulled her sleeve down over her hand and wiped at her neck. "As great as you thought it would be?"

"Better," Astarion replied. He sighed contentedly, moving to sit in front of Mintly. "Amazing."

Mintly could  _ see _ the difference. His skin looked flushed, his face looking to have some color to it. His eyes were bright and alert and when he smiled it felt... real. Honest. Her cheeks warmed. "Pleasure to be of service."

"Thank you," Astarion said, catching Mintly entirely off guard. He looked up to the sky, closing his eyes and breathing in a lingual of the night air. "I feel wonderful."

"Let's hope that sticks around. And try not to look so cheery, the others might get suspicious."

Astarion laughed, deep and hearty. He pushed up to his feet and extended a hand. "Shall we get Your Majesty home? Any later and the guards might get worried."

Mintly groaned, but accepted his hand. She was unsteady on her feet, her head swimming as it adjusted to the sudden movements. "This is going to kick my ass tomorrow."

"Probably," Astarion replied. He tilted his head. "This is a gift, you know. And not one so easily forgotten."

Mintly nodded, not quite sure how to respond. She followed behind him as they made their way back to camp, neither speaking a word. This Astarion was nothing like the one Mintly knew, or the one she thought she knew. She thought the Hells would freeze over before she'd hear him say 'thank you'. She thought he was only capable of sarcasm and frustration. And as they drew back into camp, both splitting for their respective tents, she realized that perhaps she'd thought wrong.


	9. Time For A Talk

“You look like shit, Mint.”

Ingrid stood over Mintly, who was sitting in front of her tent with her head between her knees. She had been nauseous and clammy after she woke up from her… adventures the night before, but now the full weight of it all was settling in. A headache from hell, sore neck, and just  _ exhausted _ . Mintly knew they were heading out for the witch the next day, and all she wanted to do was sit cozy by the campfire and read her book. How that led to her being a vampire snack? Good fucking question. 

“I know my cooking isn’t the greatest, but it wasn’t  _ that _ bad,” Ingrid continued. “We can push leaving back another day if you would like. You’ve barely packed.” 

“No,” Mintly responded too quickly. “No, I’ll be fine. I’m just coming down with a bug, that’s all.” She began to get up, but the change in altitude caused the world to spin and nausea came over her. Mintly would have fallen forward onto the ground if Ingrid wasn’t there to catch her. 

“Okay, we’re not going. You can barely stand up without fainting,” Ingrid said, steadying her. “Also, why are you wearing that thick scarf? It’s the warmer months now.” She reached to peel off the thick wool scarf Mintly had wrapped around her neck. 

“ _ No, _ ” Mintly snapped. She gripped Ingrid’s hand tightly, feeling the pop of one of her knuckles. “I told you I’m fine. Now drop it.” 

Ingrid removed her hand from Mintly’s grasp and quickly made her way back to her tent without saying another word, her throat tightening as resisted the urge to cry. Mintly sighed and turned back to her tent to grab her staff to use to keep her upright while the side effects of the feeding wore off. She knew Ingrid meant well, and was worried about her wellbeing, but Mintly did not have the patience for her smothering. However, she was right. Wearing this thick scarf was not only going to attract attention, but also cause her to overheat. She needed to find something thinner to wear around her neck to cover the bite marks.

Mintly was slowly packing the rest of her things into her bag when a shadow came across her. Glancing over her shoulder she saw Astarion staring at her with an amused look on his face. “Darling, you  _ must _ teach me your tricks. She was about to cry before she went off.” 

“I wasn’t planning on it. I just didn’t want her to see the lovely gift you left on my neck yet.” 

“How exactly are you feeling?” he asked. Mintly could have sworn there was a hint of concern there but his face showed nothing. 

She straightened up slowly to prevent any form of nausea returning and glared. “Like shit. I feel like shit. I look like shit, and I didn’t even get to finish my book thanks to you.” 

Astarion laughed and did a slight dramatic bow. “My apologies, Your Majesty. It’ll subside by tomorrow. Just be glad I’m not a full vampire. The pain is much worse and you’ll be stuck with me forever, what a dream.”

“More like a nightmare,” she muttered under her breath. “Are you going to just stand there and watch me pack, or are you going to make yourself somewhat useful and help?”

Astarion looked at her, then her bag, and then into her empty tent. “It seems to me that you’re already finished packing. I’m sure you can manage your tent.”

Mintly shot him a bewildered look that dissolved into annoyance. “I let you feed off of me.” She pointed to her tent. “Now pack up my fucking tent or else everyone in this camp will know about your little secret.”

Astarion shot her a nasty look, but he didn’t argue. He knew she would do it, and personally, he did not feel like meeting the sharp end of Lae’zel’s blade just yet. After watching him remove the posts from the ground, and let the support ropes drop, Mintly joined him. As they were dismantling the tent, Mintly heard laughter from across the camp. Looking over to where the noise was coming from, Mintly saw Ingrid over by Gale’s tent. The two were smiling and laughing amongst themselves over something one of them must have said. However, the comment Astarion said the night before still replayed in her head. Noticing that Mintly was not working, Astarion followed her gaze over to the two. 

“You know I actually feel a bit sorry for her,” Astarion said quietly. “There’s nothing more dangerous than a man who is  _ overly- _ confident, and Ingrid fell right into his hands.”

Mintly hummed. She tried reading Gale’s face, his body language, but nothing  _ screamed _ : “Hey-I-Am-Using-You” at her. Yes, he was a bit too confident in himself, but so was Astarion. The fact that he would even consider doing anything to hurt Ingrid in the slightest just seemed so out of character. But then again, she didn’t know him like Ingrid does. 

“There has to be something else he’s hiding,” Astarion continued, turning back to the tent. “We all have our secrets.” He looked up at Mintly, who was still focusing on the couple. 

“What if we’re just overthinking this?” Mintly asked, turning her gaze down towards Astarion. “We have no clue who that woman was or what their relation to Gale is.” 

Astarion gave her a disgusted look. “If that’s someone who Gale is related to, and he’s  _ lovingly _ looking at them, I might just vomit… and then kill him to keep everyone safe.” 

“It’s going to break her heart,” Mintly said quietly. “What do we do?”

“Personally, I wouldn’t do anything. Gale brought this on himself,” Astarion said. “But knowing you, you’re going to be getting involved and dragging me along.”

Mintly grinned down at him. “Look at you. You’re learning.” 

Astarion scoffed and looked over his shoulder, focusing his attention on Gale. “Please. I’m a nosy man and I would love nothing more than having leverage of that pompous wizard.”

* * *

It was closer to mid-day when the group finally embarked on their trip to the witch. Ingrid had hoped to set out a lot earlier, hoping to avoid having to pitch her tent for one night, but with Mintly’s undisclosed illness, they had to move a bit slower. The two hadn’t talked since their squabble earlier that morning, but Ingrid was over it. Mintly wasn’t feeling well and she pushed her a bit; she’ll talk to her later that evening after setting up camp. Ingrid also noticed that Mintly and Astarion were talking together more, and often in hushed voices, in front of her. 

Ingrid didn’t have a good feeling about this. 

The road to the Goblin village was much easier to navigate than it had been initially. They had managed to clear out the small camps of goblins and other aggressive groups of people the first time up, and hadn’t seen any signs of return. There was also the fact that Halsin had made his way up the road before heading to the Risen Road; he might have taken out the stragglers that didn’t return initially. The sun was warm on her back and Ingrid could feel the sweat beading on her back. She had been in the World Above for almost a decade but heat and sunlight were still something she was adjusting to. 

Other than the occasional small animal running about, the road was quiet. It was nice not having to worry about what could be hiding around the next curve, or a trap that was set under the leaves in the middle of the road. Ingrid took in the peace when she could, though there was a knot in her stomach. Something wasn’t right, but she didn’t know what.

Gale looked down at Ingrid, who silently walked beside him, her brows were furrowed as she was deep in thought. He lightly brushed his hand against hers, pulling her out of her concentration. “Is everything alright?” He asked softly. Their fingers loosely intertwined as they walked. 

“I just…,” she hesitated. “Have a bad feeling in my stomach.” 

Gale raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Does it have to do with that?” He gestured towards Astarion and Mintly. 

“Yeahh,” Ingrid drew out word, her voice barely a whisper. “Well, part of it. I don’t understand how she can handle how awfully rude he is to everyone. I mean, maybe he’s nicer when he’s, y’know, not verbally harassing others… well, me. Verbally harassing me.” Ingrid glared at the back of Astarion’s head, hoping he could feel the daggers she was imagining stabbing him with. After a moment, her expression slowly became more pensive. “I just don’t know what I did to make him so angry with me. I know I can get a bit… excited and into trouble, but he could have at least talked to me about it.”

Her eyes stung and she could feel the tears forming, but she blinked them away.

Oh god, why? Why was she going to cry again? Why did Astarion’s opinion of her matter so much to her? It shouldn’t, and it won’t. Once they figure out this tadpole situation in her head she wouldn’t have to see him ever again. 

Gale let go of Ingrid’s hand and put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side. “Some people are just mean for the fun of it. But, in doing so, he gains many more enemies and I don’t see you having many enemies from being as nice and kind as you are,” he comforted, leaning over to place a kiss on her temple. A small smile came over Ingrid’s face at the gesture. “But what else is bothering you? You said Astarion was only part of the problem.” 

Ingrid sighed and leaned her head onto Gale’s shoulder. “I just… feel like something bad is going to happen. Everything has been going  _ so. well, _ not that I’m complaining, but I just know somethings going to throw us for a loop.”

Gale stopped the two of them and gave her a perplexed look. “Where is this sudden negativity coming from? This is unlike you, Ingrid.”

Her shoulders slumped and she leaned forward into Gale’s chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I don’t know. Ever since that nightmare I’ve been on edge just waiting for something to happen. Normally I can handle surprises, like an ambush, but now I swear everything makes me jump.” 

Gale wrapped his arms around her and held her close, not saying anything for a moment. He quickly glanced down the path and saw that Mintly and Astarion were slowly getting out of sight and then planted another kiss on the top of her head. The nightmare, which occurred over a week ago, was still something that was bothering her. He didn’t want to delve any deeper, fearing he’d ask too much and cause her to have another nightmare. For someone who wears her heart on her sleeve, Ingrid was very much a reserved person. But he wanted to know more. About her. About her home. He knew her patron, but that was it. 

Her patron.  _ Mystra _ .

Gale was starting to realize a common theme about himself -- getting way too in over his head.

* * *

The four traveling companions made camp in a shallow cave that was carved out of the side of a cliff. There were remains of previous campers, possibly goblins or the unfortunate traveller that dared to get close to the village. The rain that Gale had anticipated the night prior finally came down as a thunderstorm. Luckily the cave was big enough to fit all four tents in, albeit cramped, and a small campfire. They had packed enough food for dinner and breakfast the next day so they did not have to worry about hunting in the storm, though food would be a bit of an issue the next day if they didn’t make it back to the main camp by the end of the next day. 

Mintly, who was feeling better than she did in the morning, was at the fire cooking the food that the group had brought with them while Ingrid was leaning against the cave wall watching the rain and lightning from the storm outside. Astarion and Gale were at their respective tents, reading whatever books they had brought -- the light from Gale’s cantrip illuminating the area enough for the both of them to read. 

Looking up, Mintly noticed that Ingrid was slowly dozing off into a meditative state. Her head would lean forward but then she would wake herself up. If she could get Ingrid to come sit by the fire and doze off, it would give her and Astarion ample time to talk to Gale. Mintly removed the dinner for the evening off of the fire, and onto the plate sitting next to her. She slowly began to get up to wake up Ingrid and move her over to the fire, but Gale was one step ahead of her. He knelt down to her and gently shook her awake. Ingrid gave him a confused look from the suddenly coming awake, and in response Gale gave her a small smile and said something to her that Mintly couldn’t hear. 

Eventually, Gale was able to convince Ingrid to move over to the fire to sleep so she wouldn’t catch a cold being by the cold that long. Ingrid reached the meditative state almost as soon as her eyes closed. Her breathing slowed until it was barely noticeable and eyes stopped moving around behind her eyelids. Before walking away, Gale removed the robe he was wearing and draped it over her, leaving a thin, gray long-sleeve shirt underneath. Rubbing his hands against his arms, he turned to head back to his tent.

Mintly looked over at Astarion to see he was watching the scene unfold from behind his book. He looked over at Mintly and gave her a slight nod. Her cue. 

Gale had just sat down and opened his book when Mintly towered over him. He looked up at her, confused. “Do you need something, Mintly?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” She said bluntly. “Why don’t we go for a walk.”

Astarion, who was pretending to read, closed his book and stood up. Gale glanced over at Astarion and then back at Mintly and furrowed his eyes. 

“I see as though I don’t have much of a choice.”

* * *

The far end of the cave was no more than 20ft from where the tents were. It was colder and the air felt damp and humid. Gale conjured another ball of light so they could all see, but made sure to have his back towards the camp so that Ingrid wouldn’t notice the light if she somehow woke up. 

“Alright, what do you want?” Gale asked in a hushed voice to prevent the words from echoing to the front of the cave. The ball of light casted weird shadows onto everyone, but Mintly could see the irritation in his face.

A grin came across Astarion’s face. “We just want to get to know you better that's all.”

Gale shot him a confused look. “Riiiight, because you were so interested in me beforehand.” He looked over at Mintly, who shuffled around awkwardly. As if she didn’t want to go through with whatever they were about to do. “Was this your plan or his?” Mintly looked up at him with sad eyes and then down at the ground. 

Mintly didn’t want to go through with this. She wanted to believe whoever Gale was fawning over during the nights he wasn’t with Ingrid was just a dead relative, not a former flame or even a current one. He has been so kind and caring with Ingrid — she’s never seen Ingrid this happy. But this needed to happen. She just needed Gale to clear the air, to let them know it was a misunderstanding, and then they could go back to camp. 

“It was both of ours,” she said quietly. 

“Alright. What do you want?” Mintly could hear the frustration grow in Gale’s voice. It was time to just get it over with. 

She looked him in the eyes with a surge of newfound confidence and asked the question she was dreading to hear the answer about. “Who is the woman you conjure a picture of at night?”

Mintly watched as a wave of emotions crossed Gale’s face. Confusion followed by anger, then that dissipated to just exhaustion. He stood there quietly for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. Was he going to try and come up with an excuse? Or would he actually own up to it? If Mintly wasn’t aware of who he actually was, she probably would have believed him if he tried to maneuver his way out. 

However, much to both of their surprise, Gale did the latter. 

“That would be Mystra.” 

“ _ Mystra _ ? As in the goddess of magic and mysteries Mystra?” Mintly asked bewildered. She knew of Mystra. They talked about her and her powers and beginnings back when she was still studying in school. She was the source of all magic, good or evil. She controlled the Weave, though others said she  _ was _ the Weave that controlled their spells and magic.

Astarion gave them both an annoyed look. He didn’t like when he was out of the loop about something. “Ahh a name to the face of the homewrecker. Lovely.” Astarion leaned against the cave wall, shivering slightly at the sudden coldness on his back. “Though I don’t think Ingrid would take kindly when she hears of this information.”

“Since when do you care about her and her feelings?” Gale snapped, the anger in his voice ringing around the cavern. Fear came over them as they looked back towards the camp listening to hear if that was loud enough to pull Ingrid from her meditation. Upon hearing nothing from the drow, Gale turned his attention back to Astarion. “As far as I’m concerned you seem to get joy from causing her pain and suffering.”

“You’re right, I do enjoy making her mad. She’s too happy all of the time and too  _ good. _ It’s my duty to give her a dose of reality.” Astarion replied. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t pity her when I see her completely oblivious to the fact that her  _ lover _ fawns over another woman… in the same romantic place you two were at yesterday. Honestly, Gale. As charismatic as you are you really are stupid.” 

Mintly sensed the change of the air. It was becoming more tense the longer she waited. Gale’s face had anger over it that she had never seen before — pure rage. Astarion, on the other hand, was completely enjoying himself. He was grinning menacingly at Gale. Waiting for him to do something. This was going downhill…  **_fast._ **

She got herself between the two, placing her hands and both of their chests to push them away from each other. “Gale,  _ please _ ,” Mintly pleaded. She turned her head towards Astarion and pointed her finger in his face. “And you. Go back to the tents. You’re doing more harm than good. Now you’re just being an ass.” 

Astarion looked at the finger in his face and then at Mintly, still grinning but not as menacing as before. It was almost softer. He took her hand gently and moved out of his face, holding it for a brief moment. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

Gale watched him walk away, glaring. When he was out of his peripheral he turned his head back to where Astarion  _ had _ been standing and glared at the wall. “Gale,” Mintly said again, quietly this time and squeezing his arm. “What’s going on?” His eyes shifted over to hers for a moment and then he closed them, inhaling and exhaling deeply to calm himself. 

“Alright. Let's get this over with.”

* * *

Gale gestured over his shoulder for Mintly to follow, and they moved outside where the rain had turned to a gentle drizzle. The storm was clearly far from over, but Gale was going to take his chances with the rain rather than risk Ingrid overhearing this story. Content that he had walked far enough, he turned. “So, what do you already know?”

“I know there’s another woman,” Mintly replied. “And now I know that other woman is Mystra.”

Gale frowned. He wasn’t fond of Mystra being called the ‘other woman.’ “Yes.”

Mintly was silent.

“I was in love with her,” Gale said. He squeezed his hand into a fist. “I.. still am? Gah, it’s a complicated situation in which I find myself. Exactly why I  _ intended _ it to remain unspoken.”

“That’s how people get hurt, Gale.”

“Ah, yes, because you are such an open book yourself, Mintly. And have I asked you about the more intimate details of your life? Your past lovers? Your mistakes? Your regrets?”

Mintly frowned. “I’m not asking you because I want all the deep and dirty details of your life. I’m asking because I want to make sure you don’t hurt Ingrid in the way that I’m afraid you might.”

“You think I want to hurt her?” Gale asked incredulously. 

“No,” Mintly replied. “But I think you will if these are the kinds of secrets you keep.”

Gale sighed. His hand that he’d drawn into a fist relaxed. She was right. And, even if he had no desire to speak of his past with Mystra, it felt... good to get some of it off his chest. He stared forward, watching Mintly’s gaze and occasionally checking the cave behind them for any sign of movement. “How did you even find out about this?” He paused. “Astarion?”

Mintly nodded.

“I should have figured, the snake.” Gale sighed. “Yes, the woman I conjure is Mystra, a woman I have a long and... complicated past with. She was my muse, my... world, I dare say. I had come to live for her, my practicing of magic done in her name and no one else’s. So you can see how when she left me without so much as a word, I was devastated.”

“She never even said why?”

Gale shook his head. He could still remember the day Mystra had abandoned him, leaving him in the silent dark void of her shadow. “I was desperate for her attention and I made a mistake. A lot of mistakes, many of which I am still paying for.” He sighed, long and low. “When I conjure her I am... it’s the only thing I have left is that image. When I look at her I hope that she will one day call upon me again. To let me apologize.”

“But why get involved with Ingrid, then?” Mintly asked. “You’re heartbroken and desperate for the love of Mystra, why drag Ingrid into this at all?”

“Because I...” Gale caught Mintly’s eye and stopped. The rain was starting to fall a little harder now, the wind picking up speed. “Because the first night I met Ingrid was the first night that I was free from that guilt.”

There was a silence that fell between them, only the wind swirling in the trees to fill the air.

“So you’re using her,” Mintly said, more as a statement than a question. “Using her to feel better about your mistakes.”

“No, Gods, no!” Gale pushed his wet hair back from his face. “No, you’re willfully misunderstanding me. Ingrid is... magnificent. She has such a wide-eyed look at the world, everything is a new adventure, something new to be learned. She’s so eager to explore and discover, it reminds me so much of my younger self. She’s the first one to lend a helping hand, the first to put herself in the line of fire for another. How could I not be enamored by a woman like that?”

“Not enamored enough, though.”

“Too enamored,” Gale corrected. His mind danced with images of Ingrid, during the goblin fight outside the gates of the grove, of her standing strong in the face of imminent danger. Butterflies swirled in his chest. “When I finally started to lean into my feelings for Ingrid, she returned. Mystra. I knew I could not have both, but the thought of leaving either behind it... it would be like leaving behind one of my own limbs. My heart itself.” He looked up into the stormy sky. “It was almost funny, discovering that Ingrid’s patron was her. The two women I would have never wanted to meet one another had been as one long before I met Ingrid.”

“Oh,” Mintly said. “Shit.”

Gale chuckled. He had assumed that Mintly had already known about Ingrid’s patron, but it seemed he’d assumed wrong. A laugh bubbled up from his chest. How absurd was it that he was standing out in the rain, pouring his life’s story out to someone who barely knew half of it. Why had he even come out here? He could’ve just told Mintly and Astarion that it was a dead sister or long lost cousin. He owed neither of them this story, or his regrets. He owed them to Ingrid. “We should get inside.”

Mintly held up a hand. “After you promise me you’ll tell her.”

“Promise you?” Gale shook his head. “I will tell her when the time is right.”

“Is that going to be soon?” Mintly pressed.

“It will be when I see it’s right,” Gale said again. It was starting to storm again. He moved to step around Mintly but she stepped into his path. “Mintly,” he warned.

Mintly shook her head. “I’m not going to let you drag this out.”

Anger flared in his chest. He had answered her questions, told her far more than she deserved to know, and now she was going to tell him how he should go about handling his own problems? “What I choose to do is not any of your business. Now please, get out of my way.”

Mintly was unmoving. She stepped forward towards Gale, getting as close as she could while jamming a finger into his chest repeatedly. “It  _ is _ my business when you decided to get Ingrid involved. You’d rather try to win back a fucking goddess, who has shown that she has moved on and does not want anything to do with you, than give your attention to Ingrid? The same Ingrid who listens to every long, boring story you tell her with amazement and awe. Ingrid, who would most likely follow you to the ends of the Earth and then some; who would be the first one to take a hit for you. The Ingrid who you call magnificent? Selfless? You’d throw that away for a fucking  _ crumb  _ of attention from Mystra? Gale, Ingrid is head over heel in  _ love _ with you. You’re a brilliant and talented wizard, but you will truly be the dumbest motherfucker alive if you let someone like Ingrid go.” Mintly paused. “I promise to make your life a living hell if you hurt her.”

Gale was silent, his anger stewing in his chest like freshly raked coals.

“Get your shit together and tell Ingrid.  _ Soon,”  _ she continued. “Regardless if you choose her or Mystra, she deserves to hear the same story you told me. And don’t put it off too long - Astarion would  _ love  _ to be the one to break the news to her and he won’t be as nice as you or I would be.”

Mintly then turned back around and made her way back to the tents, just as the storm thundered again and a torrent of rain split from the sky. 

Gale stood in the cold rain, doing nothing to cool the rage that burned beneath his skin. Mintly knew nothing. She had just barely dipped her toes into the situation and here she was giving  _ him  _ commands. She didn’t understand his connection to Mystra, and she certainly had no business grandstanding for Ingrid. He would tell her the whole story, but when the time was right and not a second before. Gale shivered, finally starting on his way back into the cave. He tried to slow his breathing - he didn’t want Ingrid to see him so angry... and definitely didn’t want Astarion to see him so riled.

He would deal with this situation. On his  _ own  _ time.


	10. Of Goblins and Hunters

Ingrid woke up the next morning to a quiet, slumbering cave. The storm from the night before had ended sometime during the night and now she could hear the rainwater that had been pooled onto the leaves dripping onto the ground out in the distance. In front of her she noticed that the campfire was still somewhat alive -- either the others stayed up late, or someone made sure it kept going throughout the night. Looking around, Ingrid had hoped to find any leftovers of the dinner before, but the plate that Mintly normally used was squeaky clean. Luckily Ingrid had brought some rations to eat packed away in her bag just in case they ran into issues with their dinner. 

Outside, the sun was beginning to make its way over the hill to the east and the morning birds were slowly beginning to chirp. Ingrid sat in front of her tent waiting for  _ someone _ to wake up. Everyone must have stayed up late -- normally Mintly and Gale were up with the sunrise most days but Ingrid could hear the soft snores of both of them. Not even Astarion was up, though she figured he wasn’t much of a morning person anyway.

With patience growing thin, Ingrid decided that she was going to adventure out to the recently-abandoned Blighted village to see if she could find anything worth value to sell back at the grove while everyone else woke up. She quickly brushed out her hair and threw it up into her classic ponytail and grabbed her bag, daggers, and sword. After scribbling a note for one of them to read on where to find her, she placed it on the clean plate and quietly made her way out of the cavern. 

The road to the village was quiet except for the noises of the animals around her, and the village itself was a ghost town. Not too long ago the four of them were wandering through the town during the midst of one of their festivals, the goblins completely unaware of the fact that this group of four would be the ones to get rid of them all. Most of the houses were destroyed in their combat, while the others were rid of any treasures as the smart goblins packed up and left after watching the battle unfold. 

Ingrid’s personal looting had come up empty, and she eventually found herself standing in front of the large wooden doors leading the Shattered Sanctum. She looked up to the sky and noticed that the sun had risen a bit more, and assumed that the others should now be getting up and moving and hopefully heading in her direction. Since she had time to spare, she wanted to explore the location a bit more and pushed the doors open and went inside.

The place smelled like death. Old, decaying death. 

The goblins that had escaped seemed to have not bothered coming back to bury their kin, letting them rot. Ingrid heaved at the smell, but managed to keep what little she ate that morning down. She was smart to have packed a scarf when she first set out on her personal journey, and so she wrapped that around her face to reduce the smell. 

Ingrid’s real interest in exploring the Shattered Sanctum was to look through what remaining items Priestess Gut had in her personal chapel. She shuddered at the memory of her and Priestess Gut sharing their mind and following her to the chapel to receive the mark of the Absolute. Mintly caught onto Ingrid’s scheme and had quietly followed them and was able to ambush her and kill her before the other goblins had noticed. Because they feared being caught, they did not investigate what was behind the door in the Priestess’ chambers and had quickly left the room.

But now Ingrid had plenty of time to figure out Gut’s secrets. 

Like the rest of the bodies, Priestess Gut’s body laid in a state of advanced decay in the same spot she fell. Various bugs and creatures crawled over and in the body, feasting all the while ignoring Ingrid’s existence. She got to work rummaging through the room -- books thrown around, drawers thrown open and dug through, even feeling around for a secret button or switch. Ingrid was about to give up hope when something on Gut’s body caught her eye. 

A bag. 

_ Oh god, _ Ingrid thought to herself.  _ Of all the fucking places _ . 

Quickly looking around, Ingrid found a long spear to use to fish the bag out of mush that was the Priestess’ body. She managed to get the spear into the strap of the bag and removing it from the body made a suction sound and caused more foul air to escape. Ingrid hoped the bag had been chewed open by the animals, but unfortunately for her it wasn’t. Taking a deep breath of what was left of fresh air, Ingrid held it and quickly got to work opening the bag and managed to open it with only touching it a couple of times. 

She stabbed the bag and dumped out its contents and out came a small, cloth-bound package. 

Unwrapping it was what she was looking for --  _ the key _ . 

“You sure are a mischievous woman, Ingrid,” A voice said, startling her.

Unsheathing her dagger, Ingrid turned around quickly to see Gale leaning against the doorway. She let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding and returned the dagger to the holster on her thigh. “And you are right on time,” she replied, standing up and brushing her hands off on her pants. Gale tilted his head in confusion. “I’ve been wanting to know what's behind that door ever since we came here the first time,” Ingrid continued. She held up the newly found key in front of her. “And now I’m going to do just that.” 

Gale’s eyes went wide, and he began to walk towards her and reached for the key. “No. That’s an  _ extremely  _ bad idea. You have no idea what's behind there.”

Ingrid pulled the key out of his reach and held it close to her, protective of it. “I was going to do it anyway before you showed up. Just let me peek, Gale.  _ Pleeease _ ?” She gave him the most innocent look she could muster.

Gale sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay fine. Just a peek and then we’re leaving.”

Ingrid grinned and placed a quick kiss on his cheek and made her way over to the door. The door unlocked with a loud  _ thunk _ , revealing a set of stairs descending into the darkness. In Ingrid's right hand was a glowing ball of light for Gale to see his surroundings, and the other was held out for him to hold on to. He cautiously took it and they began their descent into the unknown below them. 

As they walked, the sense of unease that Ingrid felt the day prior had returned. The further they descended the worse it became. When they finally reached the bottom a large set of wooden doors waited for them. As they stood in front of them, Ingrid had begun to shake and the light in her hand began to flicker and her concentration wavered.

“We don’t have to do this,” Gale murmured into her ear. He squeezed her hand tightly in hopes that would comfort her. 

Ingrid swallowed hard. “We’re already here,” she shuddered. “Might as well see what’s there.” She let go of his hand and reached for the door. She had turned the knob when Gale reached down and placed his hand over hers. 

“Let me do this… please,” he begged. “You’re shaking with fear.” 

Ingrid nodded in response, eyes not moving from the door knob. 

Gale gently moved her hand away and stood in front of her so that she couldn’t see. Upon opening the door, he was glad that he was the one that opened it and not her. On the other side of the door was a stone room with the statue of Selune in the center. Her body was absorbing large amounts of energy coming from the area outside of the stone and when he realized where the light was coming from, a chill went down his spine. Gale closed the door quickly and grabbed Ingrid’s hand and started pulling her up the stairs as he casted light so he could see. 

“What was it?” She asked as they quickly made their way up the stairs. The sudden slamming and immediate pull up the steps had surprised her. 

Gale looked down at her, and his expression did all of the speaking for him. 

_ Home _ . 

* * *

Mintly and Astarion were lounging around the westward path to the witch’s hut when Gale and Ingrid finally made it to them. Gale was still gripping Ingrid’s hand tightly and Ingrid was pale out of fright. 

“My, my. Your little  _ escapade  _ mustn’t have been as romantic as I had thought if Ingrid is this stunned to silence,” Astarion ribbed. 

“Drop it, Astarion,” Gale snapped. He walked past the both of them and made his way over the westward bridge. “Let’s just get as far away from here as possible.”

“I didn’t realize that Ingrid was so afraid of the  _ dark _ , being a drow and all,” Astarion goaded, his malicious smile creeping over his face. 

Ingrid stopped dead in her tracks, causing Gale to stumble back a bit when he tried to walk out of arm's reach. She could feel the burning of angry tears streaming down her face, her body shaking with anger. Gale, who was still stunned at Astarion’s remark, walked back to Ingrid and rubbed her arms in an attempt to comfort her. 

"Make sure you take good notes, Gale," Astarion whispered into Gale’s ear as he made his way past them. “So maybe you can conjure her the next time you're lonely.”

It took every ounce of willpower to stop Gale from turning and landing a punch on Astarion’s face. The anger that he had for Mintly the night before was nothing compared to the amount of hatred that he had for Astarion. If they were to get into some form of trouble, and Astarion’s life needed saving, Gale didn’t think he would do anything to help. 

Mintly, who did not hear Astarion’s remark and only saw Gale’s look of pure rage, began to walk past the two to catch up to him. Gale reached out and gripped her arm tightly, pulling her close to him. “This is the one, and  _ only _ , time I am saying this so you best listen well. Neither Ingrid or I will be wasting any more of our time and valuable resources to help that waste of fucking breath. Should anything happen to him I pray you have enough magic to restore him,” he snarled. “Do I make myself clear,  _ Your Majesty _ ?”

Mintly balked for a moment, but nodded quickly in response, fearing any form of retaliation from Gale. He let go of her arm and she quickly walked away, putting enough distance between the two of them. Gale turned his attention back to Ingrid, who had been watching the entire encounter with complete shock.

“What on Earth was that about?” Ingrid asked. 

_ Shit. Was this the time?  _ **_No. Not yet._ ** _ Not after she just calmed down from the Underdark. _

Gale sighed and pulled Ingrid into his chest. “Nothing,” He said into her hair. “Just letting Mintly know that you and I are no longer going to be worrying about the safety of Astarion.”

* * *

When Gale and Ingrid reached Mintly and Astarion, they were waving off two men down a path towards higher ground. They were yelling something at Mintly, pointing in the direction of the bog behind her, but she looked as though she were ready to just kill them to get them to stop talking. Instead of engaging further she turned around and began her way down the path into the bog with Astarion right behind her. They didn’t say anything to them when they got close, but just trailed behind slightly. The tension in the air could be cut through with a knife, and gods only knew what was going to set either one of them off. 

Many times during their hike through the bog the group members almost tripped and fell into the muck around them. The trees seemed to be moving their roots around underneath the water and the gunk to trip them, though what would happen once they fell Gale did not know. Nor did he want to find out. 

Eventually the path opened up to a clearing that set just above the swamp with a rock formation of cliffs and ledges lining the far end. Ingrid was the first to lay down on the ground, exhausted from the trek and the previous encounters. Gale sat down beside her and pulled out a food ration to split between the two. Gale watched Mintly and Astarion intently. Watching them wander the edge of the clearing looking for the next trail to walk on. He had just returned to his food when he heard a loud, booming laughter coming from where Mintly and Astarion were at. 

Gale and Ingrid casted suspicious glances at one another and began to make their way over to where Mintly and Astarion stood. 

When they reached the two, they were standing in front of a man with a large crossbow resting on his shoulder. 

“The name’s Gandrel,” the man said. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“The same,” They heard Mintly reply. “I think.” 

As Gale and Ingrid got closer, they noticed that the air had become to smell foul. It was a metallic scent in combination with another sickly-sweet fragrance. Gandrel noticed their appearance and waved them into the conversation as well.

“Ah I see you’ve noticed my little protection concoction. Powdered iron vine. An old hunters trick that I learned when I was younger,” he explained. “Most monsters will think twice before making a meal out of me.” He adjusted the weapon on his back before he continued. “I see you lot are also looking to talk to the old lady in that house over there.” He turned and pointed down the path behind him. In the distance the shape of a house could be made through the vines, a light illuminated the windows. 

“And why exactly are you seeking this hag out?” Astarion asked, annoyed. 

“I’m searching for knowledge, and I believe she might be able to help me. I’m hunting a creature that has just up and vanished,” Gandrel answered. “And I’ll pay whatever I must for the knowledge.”

“What exactly are you hunting?” Gale jumped in. 

“Not what,  _ who, _ ” Gandrel explained. “I am searching for a vampire spawn named Astarion.”

Both Mintly and Astarion’s posture straightened at the announcement and casted quick glances at one another. 

Gale noticed their sudden change in posture. “And what are you going to do with him? Kill him?” he pressed further, keeping Gandrel’s attention focused on him rather than Mintly and Astarion who both looked as though they were ready to faint. 

“Unfortunately not this time. I’m under strict orders to bring him to Baldur’s Gate  _ alive. _ ” Gandrel sounded disappointed. “He’s weak compared to his master, though I do suspect he might put up a bit of a fight. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”

Gale quickly glanced over at Astarion, who at this time, was driven to fear. His eyes begged for help, for Gale to do something. This was Gale’s chance to let Astarion get what he deserves. If there’s someone after him, someone that wants him alive, then he would have the chance to suffer. But there was something Gale that wouldn’t allow that to happen. As much as he despised the man, he couldn’t bring himself to let him go to his death. He cursed himself slightly. He was doing the exact opposite of what he promised Mintly.

“Sadly we have no idea who you’re talking about,” Gale replied. From the corner of his eye he saw both of them visibly relax, but then their focus was turned to what was  _ behind _ Gandrel. Gale quickly looked past him and noticed that Ingrid was slowly creeping up to him. She had managed to sneak around quietly through the bog on the exposed roots and stumps to get around. Gale saw a flash of silver from the small sliver of sunlight making its way through the canopy -- a dagger. She locked eyes with him and gave him a slight nod. Gale grinned at the monster hunter. 

“What has gotten you so cheery all of a sudden, friend?” Gandrel asked. 

“Oh nothing. It’s just that maybe the vampire shouldn’t be your only concern right now.” Gale nodded to what was behind him.

Gandrel turned around to Ingrid lunging for an attack. The suddenness of the attack caused the hunter to fumble with the crossbow he held, giving Ingrid plenty of time to sink the dagger into his heart. 

“Astarion. I am  _ not _ fighting your battles for you,” Ingrid yelled as she ripped the dagger from his heart. 

Astarion moved quicker than either of Gale or Ingrid had seen before. Ingrid was barely off of Gandrel before Astarion descended upon him, fangs baring, and bit into his neck. The scream from Gandrel was cut off quickly as blood not only poured from his chest, but now his mouth as well. When Ingrid was in reach, Gale took her hand and just watched in both amazement and disgust over what was unfolding before them as Mintly turned her head away.

It wasn’t long before Astarion had finished his feeding. He looked rejuvenated in a sense, more confident and held himself with much more strength. 

“I really must thank you,” Astarion began, wiping his lip with his fingers. “Most people wouldn’t jump right in to sav--” His sentence was cut off as Ingrid’s fist collided with his jaw, an audible  _ thud _ heard on impact. Astarion stumbled back and tripped, only to be partially caught by Mintly. Holding his jaw in one hand, he positioned himself ready to lunge at Ingrid, only to be held back by Mintly’s lone hand on his shoulder. 

Ingrid pointed her bloody dagger in Astarion’s direction. “Don’t start thanking me just yet. I only killed him because the only person who is going to put you six feet into the ground is  _ me, _ ” Ingrid swore, the rage in her eyes matching that of Astarion. She wiped the dagger onto her pant leg and put it back in the holster. “Unless another monster hunter gets to you first.”

She looked down at the body of Gandrel before her, eyeing the puncture wounds from Astartion’s bite. Mintly, who had not said a word the entire time, was watching her carefully. 

Everything clicked into place.

“Take off your scarf, Mintly,” Ingrid ordered. 

“She doesn’t have to,” Astarion spat back. 

Ignoring him, Ingrid returned her gaze to Mintly. “Take off the  _ scarf, _ Mintly.”

Mintly hesitated for a second, glancing at Ingrid and then to Astarion. Reluctantly, she unraveled her scarf to reveal identical puncture wounds in her neck. Ingrid said nothing, her expression remained unchanged.

“My gods,” Gale said quietly, breaking the silence. He dared not to approach Ingrid in fear she might lash out at him next.

“You knew this entire time and didn’t tell us?” Ingrid asked, her voice eerily calm. “And you let him  _ use _ you as fucking food?” 

“And risk you acting like this? How could I?” Mintly shot back throwing her arms in the air.

“I don’t give a flying fuck  _ what _ Astarion is; we all have our own secrets. If he was even remotely approachable of a person I would have offered to be on the lookout for people like our friend here and keep him away,” Ingrid gestured to Gandrel’s body. “But now, after the utter bullshit he’s put me through, I don’t care what happens to him. If he dies, he dies.”

Astarion looked at her in disbelief. He opened his mouth to argue, but Gale cut him off. “Did… you willingly let him do that to you?” he asked, pointing to his neck.

Mintly shuffled uncomfortably, not meeting their eyes. “Yes.” 

Ingrid began to laugh… and laugh… and  **_laugh_ ** _.  _ Gale looked at her worriedly. 

“What a great  _ fucking _ day it is,” she laughed, placing her hands on her temples. “You knew everything this man put me through and you still fell into his hands.”

“Ingrid, I didn’t... I thought-” Mintly started. 

“Save it. I had assumed that you and I saw things in at least  _ remotely _ the same way _ , _ ” Ingrid shrugged. “But I assumed wrong, and  _ severely _ misjudged you as a person, Mintly. Let’s go get our hopes crushed for the third time by this hag and go home. I need a fucking drink and I’ve been waiting for this party for weeks now.”    



	11. Purgatory and Pyre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by Illubuu!!

Mintly couldn’t breathe. It was like a hand was squeezing her chest from the inside, making it hard to gather her breath. The world teetered and tottered, the ground feeling uneven beneath her feet. She could see Ingrid and Gale start off for the witch’s hut, and she could see Astarion rubbing his jaw, but it didn’t feel real. Her eyes burned with tears unshed. She hated this. She hated herself. She wanted nothing more than to disappear and never return.

Her body burned with shame, Ingrid and Gale’s words echoing in her mind over and over and over again. How could she have been so fucking stupid? She had thought she had everything under control, everything balanced, everything  _ fine. _ She squeezed her hands into fists, willing the torrent of tears back again. She would not cry in this godsforsaken swamp. She would not make more of a fool of herself than she already had.

“Well,” Astarion said with a nonchalance that burned at Mintly’s skin, “shall we follow?”

Mintly didn’t say anything. She didn’t even look at him. She tightened her scarf back around her neck, wanting only to hang herself with it, and took off towards the hut. She kept her eyes on the ground.

Astarion saddled up next to her. “Oh, don’t look so glum, my dear,” he cooed. “This too shall pass. I’m sure we’ll all be back together singing tunes by the fire by evening.”

Taking the front steps two by two, Mintly hopped up to the front door of the hut, if only to get away from Astarion. She didn’t want to go in. Her heart ached and she was in no mood to even begin to think about the tadpole. But unwilling to make even more of a mockery of her friendship to Ingrid by leaving her behind, Mintly pushed open the front doors.

Neither Gale or Ingrid turned to see her walk in.

“I don’t appreciate busybodies.” The hag, who was stood on the landing above her kitchen, looked like nothing more than an old woman. Her clothing looked a bit ragged, but nothing like how Mintly had assumed she’d look. “You can either accept my offer or turn your little patooties back around and leave my swamp.”

“I have a different offer,” Ingrid replied. She withdrew her blade, pointing it towards the woman. “You let the young girl go, and I don’t kill you.”

Mintly hadn’t noticed the woman sitting at the table until Ingrid had mentioned her. She was dirty and looked exhausted. 

The old woman laughed, a cackle befitting a hermit of the swamps. When she spoke again, her voice had gotten lower. “I do not take kindly to being threatened in my own home.”

“Then I guess we’ve got a deal.” Ingrid jumped forward, thrusting her blade into what should have been the hag’s chest, but just before the blade made contact, she vanished.

Gale recoiled, drawing his staff and spinning about the room, just then noticing Mintly behind him. “Where did she go?”

“The bitch couldn’t have gone far,” Ingrid hissed, her gaze pointedly glazing over Mintly. “I am so sick and tired of this shit, I’m going to-”

“Ingrid, focus,” Gale warned. His eyes were wide, scanning the room over. “You can take it out on the witch once we find her. Breathe.”

Mintly glanced back down into the kitchen, noticing that the young woman had vanished as well. She looked at the food on the table and noticed something... flicker. She squinted. If they hadn’t been standing in a hag’s hut in the middle of a swamp, Mintly might have just thought it was the heat from the fireplace warping the stone above it. But there was something more. A waiver that was just right, just enough for it to look fake. Like an illusion.

“Well,” Astarion said, standing in the doorway, “that seemed to have gone well.”

No one made a comment.

Gale started to move up the stairs, hitting his staff on various boxes like he might scare the hag out of hiding. “Where could she be?”

“Come out here!” Ingrid shouted into the empty house. Her voice hadn’t lost an ounce of its fury from before.

Astarion grimaced. “You think she’s just going to come back? ‘Oh sorry, I left a pot on the sto-’”

There was a whistle and a thud.

Astarion blinked, eyes moving to the small blade now lodged in the wooden doorframe. He actually looked momentarily stunned.

“I told you I would kill you,” Ingrid said. She sauntered over to yank her blade back. “Don’t fucking tem-” She paused. Her gaze moved to something outside the door. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Mintly felt her gut twist. Her gaze bounced between the fireplace and the door. 

Gale asked the question first. “What?”

“Those fucking redcaps,” Ingrid spit. She turned around and started to slide chairs up to the door. “They’re with the hag, they’re making their way up here.”

“Shit,” Astarion hissed. He grabbed one of the tables and started to slide it over. 

Mintly had forgotten about the redcaps outside in the swamp. They had been docile enough she had just assumed them to be harmless. She turned to look at Gale, just in time to see a trio of the small gnomes throw themselves up onto the back porch behind them.

“Ah! Guys!” Gale shouted. He swung his staff forwards, letting out a torrent of ice. “We’ve got them up here, too!”

Mintly watched the scene unfold before her, as if she wasn’t standing in the midst of it all. She saw Ingrid topple a bookshelf to blockade the front door, spinning effortlessly to move to help Gale. Astarion drew his bow from his back, nocking an arrow with ease. Everything was moving so fast and yet... so slow. She reached back to grab her own staff and struggled, feeling like she was in a pool of mud. Her hands grasped the smooth wood and she pulled it over her shoulder, then turned towards the fireplace.

“A little help here would be great, Mintly!” Astarion called, his voice piercing through her stupor.

Like a jolt of ice water, the sounds and reality of the scene around her came charging in at full force. Mintly’s eyes shot to Astarion, and then to Gale and Ingrid on the porch. She looked to the fireplace again, then back. There were more redcaps coming in. How many had been in that swamp? 10? 15?

“Mintly!”

“The fireplace is an illusion!” Mintly shouted suddenly. She started backing down into the kitchen. “The hag, she must have a lair!”

Astarion gave her a look of bewilderment. “What the fuck are you talking about? Fuck the fireplace, the redcaps are up there!”

“The redcaps are probably her minions! If we take her out, they’ll go away, too!”

“Fighting some gnomes is much easier than a witch! Mintly!”

Mintly had turned towards the fireplace, waving her hands in front of the bricks. The image wavered, just as she expected it to. She could fix this. She could fix all of this. She turned back to Astarion, who seemed to be struggling to split his attention between her and the battle. “I’ll go get the hag, you guys handle these guys up here, okay?”

“Mintly, don’t you fucking dare!”

But Mintly wasn’t listening. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she waved her hand over the fireplace a final time, watching the entire thing fade to reveal a passage down below the house. She could fix this. She stepped over the threshold, Astarion’s shout being the last the she heard before the tunnel swallowed her whole - 

“Godsdammit! Mintly!”

* * *

The tunnel smelled like mildew and rot and Mintly had to draw her scarf up over her nose to keep from gagging. The wood of the stairs was soft, seamlessly intertwined with the roots of the large swamp trees that circled the tunnel down. It was eerily quiet, save for the distant drip of water and the creak of the stairs beneath Mintly’s feet. She drew upon the bottom of the tunnel and took note of the pot in the center of the room.

_ A witch’s brew? _ Mintly almost laughed, were her nerves not so fried. She noticed a few other out of place items, but gave them nothing more than a passing glance. The hag didn’t seem to be anywhere in the room, and Mintly didn’t feel any sort of presence. Surely if the hag was hiding here she would have ambushed her by now. 

Moving as quietly as she could, Mintly eventually came upon a door made of tree bark. It seemed solid enough until Mintly went to touch it, feeling the warmth of that same illusion magic again. “Nothing by halves,” she said to herself and she pushed herself through to the otherside.

The tunnel here had been swallowed even more by the swamp, the walls nothing more than wet dirt and stone. Mintly kept her head low as she moved forwards, hearing distant voices up ahead. Her pulse thundered in her ears. 

“No, no please!”

“I just want to go home!”

“Let me  _ be _ , Auntie Ethel!”

Mintly slowed her breathing as much as her anxiety would let her. She peeked around the corner of one of the rock pillars that towered in the room, seeing a small grouping of people huddled around a fire. They held their heads in their hands, rocking back and forth. It was a pitiful sight. None of them seemed to be the hag, so Mintly decided to let them be. She had to hurry - finding and killing the hag would do no good to help Ingrid and the others if she didn’t move fast.

A small waterfall fell between the gap toward the next section of path, but Mintly took a leap of faith, landing hard on her knees on the uneven stone. The chilly water was refreshing, steeling her mind for what she knew would not be an easy fight. She breathed in... smelling the gas before she saw it.

The entirety of the path forwards glowed a sickly green. Mintly wasn’t sure what it was, but it was thick and hung low to the ground. It looked dangerous and smelled even worse. She quickly got to her feet.  _ Shit. Fuck. _ She couldn’t just stand here, she had to move. She had to fix this. Her eyes did a once over, seeing not a single path not muddied by the cloud of gas. 

So, Mintly drew her scarf up over her mouth and ran.

Unable to see the ground during her dash, Mintly fell halfway across the first platform. She skidded her knees again and, when she stood, realized the gas stung where her skin had broke open. She pushed forwards, jumping down onto the lower platforms as she descended further and further into the lair.

_ “Did… you willingly let him do that to you?” _

Mintly bit the inside of her scarf, forcing Gale’s words out of her mind. Tears prickled at the edge of her eyes and suddenly the scarf felt dirty, soiled. She landed on the bottom most layer, putting her hands on her knees and gasping for the fresh air. She’d made it. This  _ had _ to be it. How many more traps could a hag have?

Lifting herself up with a sigh, Mintly turned towards the doorway, seeing that it opened up into a massive cavern beyond. She wringed her hands out and stepped towards it. 

The roots of the trees above had been grown into a dome with a single hole in the top to let down light. There was a deep hole in the middle of the room, a trail winding down around it to a door that sat at the bottommost point. The most interesting part, however, was a wooden cage that hung from the ceiling, and the woman shouting from inside.

“Go away!” she yelled, hand wrapped around the bars. “Leave me be!”

Mintly slowed her walk to a halt. The room looked empty, save for the screaming woman.  _ Fuck! _ The hag had to be here. She  _ had _ to be here! “Where is she?” Mintly shouted at the woman, just then realizing she was the one that had been sitting at the table. “Where is the witch?”

“Leave us be! Go!” 

“Where is she!” Mintly shouted, stepping further into the room. “Where is-”

Suddenly, the ground beneath Mintly’s feet glowed purple. She looked down, seeing symbols being etched into the stone. She tried to yank her feet free, but the spell held firm.

“Ask and ye shall receive.”

Mintly felt a figure behind her and she would have turned to look if her feet weren’t being held flat to the ground. 

Fingers danced along Mintly shoulders. “You young ones are so terribly rude, coming into my home unannounced and trolloping through my things,” the hag said, her mouth just inches from Mintly’s ear. “What right do you have?”

“Call off your little gremlins. Fight us yourself,” Mintly said between clenched teeth.

The hag laughed. “You’ve met my friends, have you? Well, I might be more inclined to call them off if they hadn’t already taken care of your companions. A pity, really. I thought they might have lasted longer. Maybe if you had stayed to help that could have been avoided, but we all make mistakes.”

Mintly’s heart leapt into her throat so hard she gasped, barely holding herself up on wobbly knees. Her stomach wretched and twisted and she gagged. Her skin broke out in a sweat, stinging the already irritated scraps and burns from her encounter with the gas. She yanked against the stone again.

“Now now, you’ll break something. And there’s already been so much lost today. We wouldn’t want to lose more, would we?”

_ Dead? _ Mintly’s mind raced. The hag was lying, she had to be lying. They had all been through so much more than some fucking  _ redcaps!! _ Her gut boiled with anger and disbelief and shame, gods the shame. It spun and swirled and worked its way out to Mintly’s hands. She was panting, her breath coming in short quick gasps. Before she knew it, she had lit a flame spell and was twisting, planting the ball of fire directly into the hags shoulder.

The next few moments happened fast. With the hag’s concentration broken, Mintly freed her feet from the rock and swung her hands out in front of her, letting loose a torrent of fire that engulfed the witch. She howled, stumbling back, but Mintly advanced, feeling her hands land flat against the hag’s chest.

“You want to play games?” the hag howled, her back against the wall. “Then let us  _ play.” _

The hag vanished again and Mintly fell, crumpled onto the floor. 

“Wrong place,” the hag shouted, having moved herself to the other side of the room. “Wrong time.”

Mintly scrambled to her feet, turning just in time to see the cage burst into flame.

The young woman screamed.

Her knees still wobbly, it was difficult for Mintly to find solid footing. She stumbled forwards, trying to get a good shot in at the hag, but she kept blinking about the room. Mintly held her staff in white-knuckled hands. What had she gotten herself into this time.

Mintly didn’t feel the hag behind her until her ice cold hands gripped her shoulder again. This time, sharp nails pierced Mintly’s skin and she screamed.

“Is this all you’ve got, dearie?” The hag squeezed, her nails digging deeper. “I expected more from you. But perhaps I’ve misjudged you, and that’s why you left your friends behind. The weakest link.”

_ “I had assumed that you and I saw things in at least remotely the same way.” _

Mintly screamed again, tearing herself from the witch’s grasp and stumbling forward, just narrowly missing the ledge that dropped into the pit below. Blood warmed Mintly’s robe as she reached a hand up to gingerly touch the deep gashes she knew the hag’s nails had left.  _ Fuck fuck fuck.  _ Mintly spun on a heel, letting free a volley of magic missiles.

The streaks of red arched through the air and a few must’ve hit their target, as Mintly heard the hag grunt in pain.

“Lucky shot.”

Mintly spun around again. The hag was fast. How in the word was she appearing around the room with such ease? Mintly looked up, seeing the streak of red just in time to jump back, letting the magic energy scorch the rock instead.

Mintly’s breath was coming in shallow gasps. She didn’t know where to go. She didn’t want to step into the hag, but not moving made her a sitting duck. She  _ had _ to move but  _ where? _ Fuck,  _ where! _

And then a whistle cut through the air.

A ice spell shot across the room before Mintly could side step, the crystalline shard slamming into her hip and sending her stumbling back.

The hag advanced, appearing just in time to catch Mintly and thrust her into the dirt. Her sharp nails gripped her once again, twisting the skin of her back until it burned and Mintly was screaming.

“Louder! Louder!”

Mintly could taste the earth on her tongue. She squirmed, her panic and fear threatening to overwhelm her. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Her head forced to the side, Mintly then caught sight of the cage, now darkened black and smoldering. The woman had curled up at the bottom, unmoving.

_ “But I assumed wrong, and severely misjudged you as a person, Mintly.” _

Ingrid’s voice rattled in Mintly’s skull, ringing off the sides and sending her mind into a spiral. She screamed, shoving her hands to the ground and forcing herself up. 

The sudden movement caught the hag off-guard.

Mintly rolled onto her stomach and quickly got to her feet. She cast an explosion of magical energy, and then cast another, and another. Her vision was blurry from tears, though she hadn’t even known she was crying. She could hear the hag talking, taunting, but she couldn’t hear her through the ringing of her ears. She just kept casting again and again and again.

“Now this is what I was expecting!”

“Fuck you!” Mintly shouted. She stopped her relentless assault to breathe, eyes rapidly searching for any sign of the hag. Her shoulders slumped. She was tired. She was tired and she was fucking done. Her heart was struggling and her lungs burned. Everything hurt. “Fuck you!”

The hag blinked into existence just to Mintly’s right, hand raised with the twinkle of ice.

Mintly drew her hand back, setting it alight, and thrust it forwards directly into the hag’s face.

They met in the middle. 

Mintly’s wide open flame engulfed the entirety of the witch’s face with a bright orange glow and her shard of ice pierced through Mintly’s chest.

Mintly yelped, shifting her pose but maintaining her flames spell. The ice felt like it was spreading, digging its claws further and further across her chest. Mintly focused on the warmth of her hand, her heartbeat in her ears, the ache in her legs. 

_ “You knew everything this man put me through and you still fell into his hands.” _

She didn’t relent, even as the ice continued to creep and Mintly began to feel herself fall. Her knees hit the stone. It might’ve hurt if everything wasn’t so goddamn numb. She landed on her side, her vision blurry at the edges. She saw the hag’s body crumpled not far from her and Mintly took a silent pleasure in that fact.

She could hear voices, distant and familiar. They called to her as her eyelids fluttered shut.

Exhaustion came about all at once, encircling her in its warm embrace. Nothing hurt anymore. Not even the cold of the stone floor on her cheek was able to seep through. Death, it seemed, was peaceful. Comfortable. Serene. She wondered if this is what the others had felt... she hoped they hadn't suffered. Mintly breathed slowly, hearing the void begin call her name again. It sounded so much like Ingrid.

_ Mintly! _

_ Mintly! _

Mintly relaxed, ready to embrace whatever the void had in store for her. 

She only wished she’d gotten the chance to apologize.


	12. Healing and Heartbreaks

Mintly was dead. Or, at least she thought she was. She felt weightless -- as if her consciousness and body were completely separated from one another -- but heavy at the same time. Mintly’s eyes felt too heavy to open, but she managed to move her fingers and felt the softness of bedding underneath her. 

Was she at camp? Was everything just a nightmare that didn’t seem to end?

No, it wasn’t. Her mind drifted back to what she could remember from the night before. 

* * *

_ “Oh, no. Oh  _ **_fuck_ ** _.” The voice sounded like Astarion.  _

_ Mintly heard footsteps quickly grow louder, making their way to her.  _

_ “Astarion, where did you g-- Oh fucking hells,” Ingrid’s voice called after him. Two more sets of footsteps made their way over to her.  _

_ Mintly could feel her body being flipped over onto her back, though she was far past the point of feeling any pain. Her consciousness wavered for a moment, but when she came to she could feel a set fingers moving lightly over her face, turning her head right and left, and another set moving around her body.  _

_ “Get pressure on her hip and I’ll get the chest,” Ingrid ordered. “And Gale get that spell ready, we don’t have much time.” Mintly felt the pressure on the wounds the Hag left, pain that she hadn’t felt for some time came rushing back. She arched her back in retaliation.  _

_ “Easy…  _ **_Easy_ ** _ ,” Astarion soothed, holding her hip down with more pressure to keep her still. Ingrid followed suit and held her chest down with more force.  _

_ “Mintly, you fucking idiot. What were you thinking?” Ingrid asked. Her voice didn’t hold the same fury as before, but anger was still there.  _

_ “I told her to wait and we all go together,” Astarion commented. “But she didn’t listen.” _

_ “She never does.”  _

_ Mintly faded from consciousness again, the voices seemed farther away when she came back to. She didn’t know how long she was out, but it was much longer than last time.  _

_ “It’s ready,” she heard Gale say.  _

_ “About time,” Astarion muttered.  _

_ “Healing spells take time to prepare. One wrong move and I’ll end up killing her.” _

_ “Please, just get this going. The whole house stems from this tree, we don’t have much time before it starts burning, too,” Ingrid spoke quietly.  _

_ “Right. I’ll need you two to stand back for me though.” _

_ They sounded so far away, as if they were just echos reaching her ears from a long tunnel. Mintly wanted to call for them, but her tongue was lead in her mouth. She felt the pressure from her chest and hip release and feet shuffled away from her. She felt one hand brush her cheek gently, Gale’s most likely, and then it was gone.  _

_ He began to chant an incantation, barely audible at first. Mintly could feel warmth beginning to build on her back. It was comforting and she felt relief flow through her. As Gale’s voice became louder so did the warmth, which slowly began to encase her. Mintly felt the wounds on her body begin to burn. It was a prickling sensation at first, but at the spell continued the pain intensified to the point of becoming unbearable. She wanted to get out of the pain, but Mintly’s body couldn’t move. Much like the spell the Hag used on her in the beginning to prevent her from moving, the healing spell Gale was working on did the same.  _

_ As the spell encased her, so did light. It was dim against her eyelids at first, but as the pain of her wounds intensified, the light became brighter. Calling to her almost. Not like the light one sees when they die, but one that was calling her back to the living.  _

_ They were saving her; healing her body.  _

_ Mintly let her body relax, no longer fighting the spell. Allowing it to encase her with its light and warmth and bearing the pain that came along with it. All at once the light and warmth left her. She could feel the coldness of the stone floor on her hands, the smell of mildew filled her nose with a hint of… smoke? Mintly attempted to open her eyes and was met with a blurry figure hovering over her. She attempted to push herself up off of the ground, but a jolt of intense pain shot up to her chest and she fell back onto the ground panting. _

_ “Relax,” the voice said calmly. Astarion? _

_ She could feel an arm wrap around her shoulders, lifting them off of the ground. Pain shooting into her hip as she winced. Astarion noticed her discomfort and stopped his attempt to set her upright. When the pain subsided enough, Mintly attempted to open her eyes again. This time, letting them focus.  _

_ The first person she saw was Astarion. _

_ He was holding her gently close to him, staring at her intently. She studied his face for a moment, wondering if the look of relief was a figment of her imagination or not. She noticed his jaw had begun to bruise, and a fresh cut went across the side of his forehead. He was roughed up. Mintly watched as he turned his head to the direction of her feet, watching as a small smile briefly made an appearance on the corner of his mouth, and followed his gaze.  _

_ After her eyes adjusted Mintly could see Ingrid kneeling next to Gale, who was sitting on the floor panting with his head in his hands, rubbing his back comfortingly. Ingrid was the first of the two to notice Astarion and Mintly, nudging Gale to get his attention. They both gave her a small smile, but Mintly was still able to see the hurt and anger that could still be shown in Ingrid’s eyes.  _

_ Mintly leaned her head back and stared at the top of the cavern, suddenly incredibly sleepy.  _

_ “Let’s get working on finding an exit. I can smell the smoke getting closer,”she heard Astarion say.  _

_ Smoke? A fire? _

_ Mintly didn’t have much time to ponder her thoughts as her consciousness fell for the third time. _

* * *

Mintly finally forced her eyes open to find herself laying inside a tent.  _ Her tent. _ She laid there for a while, processing the events of the last few days and also allowing her to adjust to being fully awake. She could hear footsteps outside of the tent walking back and forth near her -- pacing. 

“The others are going to wonder where we’ve been. This shouldn’t have taken so long,” she heard Ingrid say. 

“I highly doubt the others even care,” Gale replied. 

“She should have been awake by now. What’s taking her so long?” Ingrid said, growing impatient. 

“Ingrid, she was stabbed in the hid and in the chest. It’s going to take a while,” Gale assured. 

They were waiting for her to finally wake up, and the last thing Mintly wanted to do was make them wait longer. She slowly made an attempt to sit up, remembering the intense pain she felt in the cavern. While the pain was still there, it was more of an ache than a jolt. She managed to get herself upright and onto her knees, and then into a squat. Sunlight poured over her face as she undid the last strap of her tent flap. Mintly squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and slowly opened them so that they could adjust to the light. She looked around to see the three of them staring at her, causing her face to flush at the sudden attention. 

When Mintly attempted to stand up out of her tent she was met with an intense wave of nausea and weakness. If Astarion was not standing close by to catch her, Mintly might have ended up stumbling into the fire in front of her. 

“You need to lay back down,” Gale said with concern in his voice. “You’re nowhere near ready to move yet.” He made his way over to help Astarion lay her back down, but waved him away with her hand. 

“I just want to get back to camp,” she said breathlessly. She glanced up at Ingrid, who was staring at her emotionlessly. Her heart ached, but not from being stabbed, but for any attention from Ingrid. Turning back to Gale she continued. “Can we at least do that? I promise I’ll stay put and rest once we do.”

Gale gave a cautious look to Astarion, who returned his look with a shrug. He glanced over his shoulder to Ingrid for a response. She looked at the three of them and then quickly outside of the cave. “Let’s get going,” she sighed. “Gale, go with Astarion and Mintly. I’ll pack up her tent and meet you out on the road.” No one argued. In fact, everyone moved quickly to get  _ out _ of the cave, and possibly away from Ingrid. 

Astarion picked her up under her knees effortlessly and began making his way out of the cave. Gale followed behind them, but momentarily stopped in front of Ingrid who was kicking the campfire out. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but she watched as Gale gently stroked her cheek before planting a kiss on her forehead. 

Guilt settled into her stomach like a brick as she recalled her confrontation with Gale just days earlier. 

She took Astarion’s word as the truth, completely forgetting how manipulative and deceiving he was, and forced Gale to explain himself without considering his own feelings of it all. She was ready to rush to Ingrid’s defense, but failed to take in all perspectives. 

Pushing her feelings of guilt aside, she turned her attention onto the road in front of her. Her eyelids became heavy once more as the steady movement of Astarion’s walked rocked her to sleep. 

* * *

It was late in the evening when the group finally arrived at their campsite. The party was just beginning when they arrived, only to be halted when they noticed the rough shape they were in. Hushed whispers were heard as Ingrid led Astarion and Mintly up the path to the abandoned stone building above the camp -- a quiet place for Mintly to relax and rest while the party happened later on in the evening. 

When Ingrid made it to the bottom of the steps, she was met with the three who refused to attend their excursion. She saw Wyll first, whose arms were crossed and staring at her. 

“What on earth happened?” He asked, glancing up to the building and then back at her. 

“The Hag was definitely a sham, and we all got our asses handed to us,” she replied. “And Mintly decided to face her alone and nearly got herself killed.” 

“That does not surprise me in the slightest,” Lae’zel commented.

“Is she okay at least?” Shadowheart added, concern in her voice that surprised the rest of them. 

Ingrid nodded. “Yes, she’s doing well. She just needs to rest and let her body heal the rest of the way. Gale managed to get the wounds closed and healed, but her body needs to recover from that much energy used.” 

“And how is he doing? He looked absolutely exhausted when he returned,” Wyll asked. “He didn’t even set up his tent, just grabbed his blanket roll and wandered out of the camp.”

“He’s also fine, just a headache,” Ingrid reassured. “The spell required an intense amount of concentration and he had very little time to prepare, plus it was also physically tolling on him. I was actually going to check on him now since Mintly is settled in.”

“Maybe this party was a bad idea,” Shadowheart said quietly. “Almost everyone is knocked out of commission in some way.”

“Nonsense,” Ingrid began, pushing her towards the middle of camp. “You guys were also part of the battle with the goblins, this is for you guys too. We’re all just celebrating differently that's all.”

“At least take this wine with you,” Wyll offered, handing her a small bottle of wine he pulled out of his bag. “Before the rest of us drink it all. Cups are on that barrel over there.” He gestured to the glasses sitting on the barrel near his tent.

She smiled and eagerly took the bottle from him and grabbed two glasses and made her way out of the camp to where Gale was.

Ingrid found Gale on a cliffside hidden by large boulders and covered by the canopy above them. It was located farther from the camp, and farther from the beach where they had met twice prior. He was sitting on top of the bedroll that he brought with him, it unraveled enough for two to lay comfortably on. Ingrid looked around and noticed a couple of bundles of candles scattered around him, creating a light glow throughout the area. 

“You’re very good at hide and seek, Gale,” Ingrid joked. Her sudden appearance slightly startled him and he turned to see her. He gave her a sheepish grin and stood up to meet her. 

“I’m sorry, I meant to tell you earlier, but once we got to camp we were all whisked away.” 

“Why the change? The beach and the stars are out and shining tonight.”

Gale hesitated for a moment, not wanting to explain to her that Astarion had been spying on them, spying on  _ him _ recently. “I think the beach is a bit  _ too _ close to the camp. They’re bound to get rowdy and come in and disturb the moment. I hope this area will suffice.” He gestured to the space around him. “I decorated myself.” 

Ingrid smiled at the thought of Gale taking his time decorating and making his newfound hideaway more appealing for her. “I think it looks lovely.” She held up the small bottle of wine and glasses in her hands to him. “Wyll gave us a gift.”

He took the bottle from her hand and inspected the small label on it. It was a red wine of sorts, though he wasn’t sure of the name. He assumed that the bottle was something that the tieflings had made themselves at one point. “Shall we sit down and share a glass of wine together?” He asked, motioning her to come sit. Instead of responding Ingrid handed him his own glass and made herself comfortable on the bedding. 

The two sat close to one another, leaning back onto their arms as they looked at the stars twinkling through the canopy above them. The bottle of wine they shared was quickly emptied, which led to a state of alcohol-related bliss between them. Their bodies became much warmer, causing them to remove their outer layers to cool down, though they became more intertwined the longer they laid there. Their vision blurred around the edges and everything was funnier -- their problems were shoved back to the deeper parts of their minds. Only right now was either of their concern. 

They laid in silence for some time. Listening to the crickets around them chirp and hearing the occasional holler from the camp. Ingrid looked down to find Gale looking up at her, his eyes glazed slightly from the wine. He was studying her -- taking in every feature, every freckle and mole -- almost mesmerized. “Can I help you?” She asked. His eyes locked with hers and he grinned -- his eyes longed for her, yearning even, full of admiration… and lust. She felt a warmth within her as she slowly came to realize what he wanted. 

_ Her. _

“You look beautiful under the moonlight,” He said with a slight slur to his words. 

Ingrid rolled her eyes and laughed. “I think that’s the wine talking, Gale.”

Gale moved, positioning himself so that he was near Ingrid’s ear. “No,” he breathed, “It’s not.” He placed a kiss on the corner of her jaw and slowly made his way down her neck, stopping at her exposed collarbone. Ingrid could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears and she prayed that he wasn’t able to feel it. The longing was mutual, but Ingrid was not prepared for Gale’s boldness. 

“You are… very, uh, up front, aren’t you?” She stammered. Her body felt on fire and butterflies swarmed from her stomach to her chest. 

“I am many things, Ingrid,” he purred, “but coy is not one of them.” He began to leave a new trail of kisses up the other side of her neck. Her breath caught in her throat and she tensed slightly. Gale noticed the sudden rigidness and paused his ascent. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he assured her. 

“No,”she said quietly. “Don’t stop.” She felt his grin against her neck as he pulled her onto his lap. His hands began to roam, feeling every inch and curve of Ingrid that he could, all the while replacing a kiss here and there with small bites. Ingrid’s hands soon found themselves entangled in Gale’s hair, pulling their bodies closer together. His hands stopped at the buttons of Ingrid’s blouse, well,  _ Astarion’s _ blouse, and looked up to Ingrid and waited for her response. She looked at him for a moment, taking in the sight under her. The longing in his eyes turned into an indescribable hunger, fingers ready to undo her shirt at her command. His breathing was in time with her and just as heavy and quick. His face and body flushed with heat. She could feel his excitement on her thigh from stiffness in her trousers, all the while her own body was alive and warm. 

Her response came in the form of a passionate yet desperate kiss on his mouth, the force pushing Gale onto his back. She could feel the buttons of her shirt coming undone, one by one, increasingly exposing her to the cold air of the night. 

And then, her entire torso was exposed to the night. Followed by Gale, whose shirt was thrown off at some point. 

Ingrid took the moment to trace her fingers along Gale’s newly exposed chest. Tracing over defined muscle she did not expect him to have; tracing over unseen scars, hoping to hear their stories one day. He arch slightly under Ingrid’s touch when she traced the part of his stomach that met his trousers, his breathing catching slightly. She felt Gale’s hands move up her side to cup each of her exposed breasts. Her entire body shivered as he gently rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, body aching for more. Still, he hesitated. Unsure of what he wanted to do. 

She began to place love bites and kissed up his collarbone and neck, sucking for a moment knowing that it was going to bruise. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” she mimicked into his ear. 

He growled deeply into her ear as he moved Ingrid onto her back in one quick motion. He eyed her hungrily, taking in the woman underneath him. Her flushed face and moonlit eyes, which shone with equal hunger and anticipation.She placed a hand gently onto his neck and pulled him closer to her and continued their mutual exploration throughout the night. 

* * *

Gale stared at the canopy of the trees above him, listening to the birds slowly waking up the closer dawn came. Ingrid laid on his chest, her hair sprawled out across their bodies. He didn’t realize that she could choose her meditative position, but there she was in her meditative state asleep on his chest. Dawn was about to break and sleep had yet to come to him; he had begun to absentmindedly rub the length of her back as she slept to pass the time. 

Mintly’s words filled his head. 

_ “I’m not asking you because I want all the deep and dirty details of your life. I’m asking because I want to make sure you don’t hurt Ingrid in the way that I’m afraid you might.” _

_ “You think I want to hurt her?” _

_ “No, but I think you will if these are the kinds of secrets you keep.” _

Gale couldn’t keep this up. The longer he waited, the more it was going to hurt Ingrid. There were times during their intercourse where his mind turned to Mystra. How he longed for her touch against his skin, to feel her bare chest against his. Other times during the night he relished in the sight of Ingrid and joy and pleasure he felt being intertwined with her. 

_ “But why get involved with Ingrid, then? You’re heartbroken and desperate for the love of Mystra, why drag Ingrid into this at all?” _

_ Because the only thing I know how to do is fuck everything good in my life up _ , Gale thought to himself. 

Ingrid and Mystra deserved much better than him in his life, and Mystra was smart enough to go. Ingrid, on the other hand, was oblivious to it all. She had no idea of his history with her patron, the chaos that ensued when attempted to win her back, nor did she know Mystra consumed almost every thought of his. She was everything Gale needed — an unadulterated optimism of the world, a newfound star in the sky…  _ hope.  _ He didn’t deserve her. He didn’t deserve her in the slightest. 

He spent his time trying his hardest to think of ways to have both women he cared for in his life. However, as much as he tried to figure it out, Gale slowly came to the realization that he wasn't going to be able to have both Ingrid and Mystra in his life, not in the way that he wanted. He did not want to subject Ingrid to the violent outcome of the mistakes that he made during his quest to win back Mystra's affection. She deserved better. Better than him, and she knew she would one day. But since her entire being was encased with Mystra, Gale decided that the best thing to do was remove both of them from his life altogether.

“Good morning,” Ingrid said groggily, pulling Gale out of his thoughts. She moved the hair that covered most of her face and leaned in to lightly kiss his lips. 

Gale didn’t reciprocate. 

Ingrid sat up and looked at him. “Everything alright?” She asked, confused at the sudden change of his demeanor. 

Instead of responding Gale sat up and just stared at her with a pained look on his face. Dread filling him as he knew what he had to do next. 

“Gale what is the matter? Please tell me,” she pleaded. “Did I do something wrong?” 

_ No,  _ He thought to himself.  _ The exact opposite, actually. You’ve done everything  _ **_right_ ** _.  _

Ingrid gently placed one of her hands over his, only for him to yank it away. He could see the tears forming in her eyes and he yearned to wipe them away though he was the one causing them. 

There was no turning back now. 

“I can’t do this,” Gale finally said. 

“Do  _ what _ ?” Her voice cracked as more tears formed. 

“This.  _ Us.  _ I just can’t.” He could feel the anger boiling. Not at her, but at himself. He hated this. He hated doing this to her. He wished there could be another way, but he just couldn’t see one possible. 

“But  **_why_ ** ?”

“Because I don’t love you, Ingrid.” He snapped, instantly regretting saying the words out loud. 

Ingrid looked as though she had been stabbed right through the heart, though she might as well have been. The tears in her eyes began to freely fall as she just stared at Gale, covering her mouth to prevent her sobs from being heard though it did little. She sat there for a moment letting herself sob. Every emotional event from the previous few days to now came out of her in her tears. 

Gale sat there and watched, his eyes filling with tears himself though he blinked them away. 

“So…,” Ingrid said quietly after a while. “Everything up until last night. Every conversation, every secret meeting, every comforting hug was just to butter me up to sleep with you?” Her voice was quiet but her eyes showed anger, a different kind of anger than she held at Mintly days prior.

This was the anger of a heartbreak. 

“Yes,” he lied. 

She stared at him in disbelief. She had hoped that his response would have been different, something that she could use to redeem him, to make his sudden declaration more bearable. But instead, it did the exact opposite.

She didn’t say another word to him as got up and quickly found her clothes and put them on. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have the words to say, she just couldn’t bring herself to say them. She kept hoping that he would chase after her, but she knew he wasn’t going to and she wasn’t going to look back to see. 

Scratch was the first to greet her when Ingrid got back to camp. She scratched his ears and continued to where she left her bag and bundled up tent, carefully stepping over the sleeping partygoers and trying to make as little sound as she could. Ingrid took one last look at the camp behind her and began her trek down one of the well worn paths, not caring where it was going to lead her. 

Unbeknownst to her, Scratch began to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so that was my first time writing any form of smut. It was the most detailed, or explicit, but I tried my hardest to write as much as I was comfortable with. I hope it was alright!


	13. Dreams and Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by Illubuu!! :) this chapter occurs around the same time as the previous chapter - Healing and Heartbreak

Mintly dreamed of home. The forest with the babbling brook and chatty birds that danced across the tree branches. She could smell the damp earth, sitting in the grass and running her hands over the soft flowers that bloomed at the ends of their stems. The sun was warm here, where it was able to squeeze between the leaves of the canopy and spill onto the forest floor below.

She knew it was a dream, but it was hard not to fall into the illusion, pretending that she was back home and that the mind flayers and the tadpoles and the hags were all just some distant problem happening to someone else. She breathed in a sigh, relishing in the reprieve, even if she knew it would be only temporary.

Mintly wondered when she would get to be home again. She had been so focused on the tadpole and everything that entailed she’d forgotten that there were people she’d left behind. The baker in town probably wondered where she was, why she hadn’t been by in a number of weeks. And she didn’t put it past her friends at the tavern to head out to her home in the woods to check up on her. She hoped they weren’t too worried.

Mintly leaned her head back, letting one of the sunstreams fall on her face. She listened to the forest until, under the sound of the birds, Mintly heard a set of footsteps. She looked up to see Ingrid, striding through the trees with her face drawn in fury. Mintly scuttled backwards, her heart sinking to the floor.

“You were supposed to be my friend, Mintly.”

“Ingrid,” Mintly started, holding her hands out in front of her. She could hear the wind suddenly pick up speed, howling through the forest. This wasn’t real. This was just a dream. “Ingrid, what’re you-”

“You know damn fucking well why I’m here, Mint.” Behind Ingrid’s head, storm clouds swirled in the sky, beginning to blot out the sun. The temperature dropped and the wind continued to grow, shaking leaves from the trees. “I can’t believe you have the balls to even ask me that.”

_ This isn’t real. This isn’t real. _ Mintly shivered. She wanted to wake up, but the dream persisted. “I’m sorry, Ingrid. I’m sorry, I fucked up, I-”

“Oh, you fucked up alright.” Ingrid dropped into a crouch, bringing her face so close their noses were almost touching. “You let him play you like a  _ fool, _ giving him everything his pretty little face asked for without a single thought to anyone else. Do you have any idea how stupid you look?”

Mintly’s eyes burned. “I didn’t think it would hurt anyone else, I thought-”

“You thought you could get away with it. You thought you could hide your dirty little secret behind all those innocent smiles and well wishes. You disgust me, you know that? At least Astarion was always upfront about his intentions, but you... you had me thinking you were in my corner. That if push came to shove you would be steadfast and yet, poof - ” Ingrid made an explosion gesture with her hands, “ - all that disappeared the minute our friendly neighborhood blood sucker needed a drink. Was it worth it? Did you at least enjoy it?”

“I was in your corner, I still am-”

“Don’t you fucking lie to me-”

“I’m not lying, I just-”

“Just what, couldn’t tell the truth?”

“Ingrid!” Mintly shouted. Rain had started to fall and thunder rumbled overhead. The warm yellow glow of afternoon had turned dark and grey. It was freezing, the trees swaying dangerously in the strong winds. A sob escaped through her parted lips. “I never meant for any of this to happen! I wanted to help! I wanted-”

Ingrid scoffed. “Keep your tears to yourself, Mintly. What you wanted was a happy ending for yourself, fuck anyone else. You saw how Astarion treated me. Hells, you saw Gale and him fight about it enough times. And you’re going to tell me you never meant for this to happen? What did you  _ think _ was going to happen?”

“I thought, I thought...” What had she thought? Mintly’s cheeks were warm with tears and her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. Maybe she had assumed his words hadn’t hurt her as much, that they rolled off her back like a summer rain. Or maybe she had assumed she could change Astarion, excusing his actions as minor setbacks rather than a permanent trait of his. “I thought...”

“Go on, spit it out.”

“I... I didn’t realize how serious it was.”

Ingrid held up a finger. “Ah ah, no. You didn’t  _ want _ to realize how serious it was. You didn’t want to face the truth that you would have to choose, myself or Astarion. And Gods forbid you don’t choose Astarion.”

Mintly’s cheeks burned. She choked out another sob, trying to gather her breath and gaining no ground. She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to admit that Astarion was her blindspot. Such an ornery, awful, angry, petty excuse for a person who did nothing but cause problems and create trouble and yet... She rubbed at her eyes, wishing this dream would just end. The rain was ice cold now. “I’m sorry, Ingrid.”

“I don’t care,” Ingrid replied quickly. She pulled Mintly’s hands away from her face. “Look at me. Look at me and tell me that I’m not as important as he is. Admit it, say it outloud. That if you had to do it again, you would pick him over me. Say it.”

Mintly shook her head. “I won’t! I wouldn’t!”

“You  _ would! _ You’re so caught up in his lies and his charm and his bullshit you can’t see straight! You want so desperately to be accepted and loved you’d let others fall to have it! You won’t even admit it to yourself! Say it, Mintly!”

“Ingrid, you’re hurting my wrist-”

“Say it!”

“No!”

“Say it!”

“No! Ingrid, let go-”

A boom of thunder rattled through the forest and lightning flashed bhind Ingrid’s head. Her eyes were alight with wrath. “Say it!”

* * *

“NO!” 

Mintly startled awake, breathing in a deep gasp and wincing as her sore ribs and chest ached in response. The air was chilly on her clammy skin and she reached up to touch her face. No rain, no thunder. Above her, the sky shone a light blue, the stars still visible even as dawn approached. There was nothing but the earliest of morning birds to signal the coming day.

As her bearings slowly came back to her, Mintly realized she was in the stone building out back behind main camp. She slowed her breathing, suddenly realizing how awful she felt, both from the dream and her injuries. Her senses returned and her entire body felt like it had been slammed against a thousand rocks. She huffed.

“Welcome back, my dear.”

Mintly looked up, seeing a figure standing in the doorway of the building. She recognized the lax posture immediately. She groaned silently to herself.

Astarion drew slowly closer. He crouched beside her. “How are you feeling?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t care to have answered.”

“Well,” he chuckled, “that dream certainly put you in a sour mood.”

“Fuck you, Astarion.”

Astarion blinked. In the low light, Mintly might have said he looked hurt. But that was beyond his capabilities. He rested his hands on his legs. “Normally when I get a reaction like that I’m well aware what caused it, but I must admit I am at a complete loss right now.”

“Take your pick,” Mintly replied. She wouldn’t look at him,  _ couldn’t _ look at him. She tossed the blankets aside, pushing herself up and onto her feet. When she felt Astarion reach over to help her gain her balance, she ripped her arm away. The force sent her tumbling into the wall, which she hit embarrassingly hard.

“You plan to try and kill yourself again?” Astarion asked. 

Mintly held a hand on the wall. Her mind twisted and spun, her vision blurry. She would say she just wanted to go back to sleep, but even her dreams haunted her. “Wouldn’t that fix so many problems.”

“Are you still wallowing over your fight with Ingrid?” Astarion moved so that he was in front of her. “Why do you let these things bother you so much? Just let them go. She’s fine.”

“Fine? You call that fine?”

“Listen, if you want to curl up and cry over your problems, that’s on you. But at some point-”

“My problems?” Mintly asked. “Are you just completely forgetting the part you played in all of this shit?”

Astarion laughed, sauntering closer. “Darling, I accept what I am. I know the trouble I cause. In fact, I  _ relish _ in it. Just because you simply do not have the mental facilities to handle what you got yourself into does not in any way reflect myself.”

“You got me into this!” Mintly shouted. She pointed her freehand towards him. “You asked me to keep your secret, and I did! And then you went and made yourself a problem and made me look like a fool!”

“You made  _ yourself _ look like a fool,” Astarion corrected. “You didn’t have to keep that secret. You could have just as easily told Ingrid what I was.”

Mintly screwed her face up into a scowl. Was he honestly serious? “You’re saying to me, right now, that I was wrong to have kept a secret that you asked me to keep.”

“I am not making any claims to rightness or wrongness. I’m saying you had a choice, and you made a choice.  _ You _ did, not I.”

“And you had a choice not to take me out in the forest that night!”

“You also had the choice not to come along. And in fact, if I do remember correctly, you agreed to go spy on Gale and Ingrid, regardless of what happened later. Now what does that say about your friendship?”

Mintly’s face flushed. She was tired and angry, her hands shaking. She hissed between her teeth, “Get the fuck out of here.”

“Or what,” Astarion scoffed, “you’ll blame me for more of your problems?”

“Or I’ll... I’ll fucking...” Mintly’s mind was a mess. She hung her head, staring at the floor. She wanted to scream, her frustration reaching a boiling point. She wished the hag would’ve just killed her. “Just leave me alone.”

“And if I don’t?”

Mintly swung her head up, startling when she realized how close Astarion had gotten. She balked, taking a few stumbling steps back. She watched him a moment, amusement playing behind his eyes and dancing across his face. “Why?” she asked. “Why do you take so much joy from of other’s pain? Why can’t you just  _ leave _ and  _ let lie? _ ”

“Why?” Astarion echoed. He tilted his head, taking another step closer. “Because it’s fun. Because people get riled so easily over the simplest of things... it’s just natural to want to see how far you can push it.”

“But you don’t. You don’t see how far you can push it, you shove people over the edge and keep going. You don’t know when to stop.”

Another step. “Or perhaps I do and I simply choose to continue. I guess that’s the difference between you and I - I can live with my choices.”

Mintly could feel the wall coming up behind her, seeing now that Astarion was trying to push her into a corner, both literally and figuratively. She planted her feet in the ground as he took another step forward, bringing them nearly chest to chest. “Or maybe you can’t, Astarion. Maybe you push and push and push because you want to feel in control of something. Anything. Even if it’s other people. Maybe you’re so afraid of being powerless that you grasp at any semblance of control you can get.”

Astarion’s face fell, but only for a second. He tilted his head again, his signature smile creeping onto his face. “You think so? That’s an awfully astute observation from someone who just woke up from near-death.”

“I do think so,” Mintly replied. She pushed her advantage, pressing herself against him. “I think, deep in there, there’s just a scared little boy. Maybe that’s why I let you drag me around on your leash. I thought maybe you just needed a shoulder to lean on, a friend to trust. I thought there was something more to you than this, Astarion. And I guess that was my choice. And my mista-”

Astarion leaned forward and broke Mintly’s sentence off with a kiss. 

It was a soft, gentle one. Mintly was reminded of that night in the grove, his hands laying lightly on her neck and face. She wanted this, Gods, she wanted this. Everything else in the world fell away to a moment of bliss. She wanted to stay in this strange, surreal moment, to bask in it, but suddenly a voice spoke into her ear. Ingrid’s words did not hide that they were an accusation, her tone ice cold and sharp as glass.

_ So he kisses you and all is well. All he has to do is show you a little attention and you fall right back in his hands. _

Mintly recoiled, backpedaling and slamming her head into the brick wall behind her. She reached upt o grasp at her head, which now throbbed angrily. “Fuck!”

“I can’t say that was the reaction I was expecting,” Astarion chuckled softly, moving to close the distance between them, “but neither can I say I’m disappointed.”

Mintly held a hand to the back of her head and held the other out in front of her. “No.”

Astarion stopped.

“No, I don’t-” A fool. A complete and utter fool, she was. She let out a strangled sigh and moved around Astarion towards the lights in the camp. She had to talk to Ingrid. That was what was important now. She  _ had _ to talk to Ingrid. She crossed the bridge at a trot, one hand still on her head. 

The camp was full of unfamiliar faces, all asleep in every conceivable place possible. _The party, fuck, the_ ** _party._** Mintly struggled over sleeping bodies, growing more and more distraught as none of them turned out to be Ingrid. She’d made it to where her tent should have been and looked to the sky. The horizon had started to turn a deep orange, signalling the ever coming dawn. She moved to where Ingrid’s tent should have been and saw only the empty, flattened earth in its place. 

“What?” Mintly said aloud. She started to look around camp, giving Astarion’s figure still up near the stone building only a quick glance. Had she moved her tent elsewhere? And if she had, where?

Mintly’s chest tightened. She couldn’t see the tent anywhere. Then, it hit her. _The grove!_ _She must be in the grove!_ With a renewed energy, Mintly hopped over the sleeping partygoers, making her way to the forest path. She dipped into the treeline, following the path that looked the most familiar. She was pretty sure she remembered the way, but even if she didn’t, it was as if she was going to ask Astarion.

A chorus of birds chirped their morning melody as the sun finally broke above the horizon, spilling warm light across the forest floor. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. I do not have a schedule of updating the story, but please let me know what you think of it and what I can do better for the next chapter!


End file.
